Champion
by I M Sterling
Summary: The war is much larger, far longer, and much deeper than they could have imagined: fought on a scale that baffles the limits of human understanding. In such a world, perhaps it isn't surprising when Hermione Granger is sent back in time to rescue Tom Riddle's soul before he has the chance to destroy it. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: This is a story that's been very insistent. I don't write Tomione generally, but this little plot bunny weighs 500 pounds and has big teeth. It wouldn't let me go even though I have a number of other things I should be doing. I have no idea how long it's going to be, but I'll try to update regularly (I know I should be able to do it every other day at first…I have about 17,000 words already…)**_

 _ **The rating is M, though as of right now there is no smut in it…there are thematic elements that warrant the rating and you'll see some of those in the first chapter. WARNING: mentions of child abuse, no graphic details and there will be violence and lots of it later on.**_

 _ **Harry Potter belongs to JKR…but you already knew that.**_

Hermione Granger lived a full life after her famous adventures as a school girl. She went on to do many impressive things and much good in both the magical and muggle worlds. And when she was very, very old and surrounded by her loving family and friends, she slipped peacefully into the arms of death.

And that is where this story begins.

 **HGHGHGHG**

She opened her eyes curiously. She suspected that she was dead and the youthful hands she saw as she looked down added weight to that argument. The place where she stood was peaceful. She decided that sitting would be pleasant and suddenly, the hazy surroundings solidified into a vibrant park that was on the cusp of summer…the air smelled sharp and fresh, like it had rained the night before, and the slight breeze had a bit of bite to it, but she was sitting on a bench in the sunshine, and it was…perfect.

"Hermione." She looked up and saw a sight she hadn't seen in her world in many, many years.

"Minerva!" She hugged the witch who had been her mentor.

"You did well."

Hermione grinned and hugged her again. "Where is Harry? And Ron? It's been so long since I've seen them…"

Minerva placed one hand at her wrist. Hermione felt the first pang of alarm.

Minerva interpreted it well. "Don't worry. All is well. But the afterlife isn't quite what you imagined."

Hermione waited. She knew Minerva. She'd get a proper explanation. "In life, there are two warring forces…for ease we'll call them light and dark…you might call them order and chaos, or good and evil, but those words have connotations to them that lend themselves to misunderstanding. Over the eons, each side had chosen warriors…champions of light or darkness. These champions are born and reborn, and being flesh and blood, they may impact the physical world to turn its path. The champions are chosen because of their predisposition toward the side and the scope of their souls. They are rare among humans, and precious. Neither side uses their champions without great cause."

"Harry was a champion."

McGonagall nodded happily. "Certainly. Many times and in many lifetimes. You were born in a time when both sides placed their champions with near reckless abandon. There are rules about how and why they can be born you see. Grindelwald was a champion of the dark and Dumbledore, though he'd only been born twice before, was of the light."

Hermione giggled. "Harry is older than Dumbledore?"

Minerva nodded solemnly. "He is. As is Mr. Ronald Weasley for that matter. He's always been brash in every life time, especially…" She stopped herself as Hermione's curiosity went into overdrive. "But I digress. The light won the battle with Grindelwald, and there should have been a time of peace. But the dark realized at the moment Grindelwald failed to seduce Albus to their side, that they would lose in that arena. Dumbledore was more powerful than their champion in a head to head fight.

And so, by means so foul that I will not describe it, the darkness hijacked the soul of one of our champions who was being sent to be an aid to Albus. His soul was made flesh in darkness, binding the soul that was full of light to a body that was predisposed to darkness. The dark had been laying this particular trap for centuries."

Minerva shook her head sadly. "There were attempts on the side of light to correct, but in the end, darkness overtook our champion. It turned him."

Hermione understood. "Voldemort."

Minerva nodded. "So the light sent a prophesy and some of its strongest champions. And you know the rest, you lived it. The light won. The cost was high. Voldemort seduced so many souls to darkness that the other side has an over abundance of champions that they can call on…and our side is weakened."

Hermione frowned. "Minerva, you aren't asking me to be a champion, are you, because as much as I would love to help, I just don't think I'm the right sort…"

Minerva laughed. "Oh love! You silly, silly thing. You've been a champion since…well, let's just admit it has been a very, very long time. The light tossed all of its best into the fray. There was no way that Harry Potter's closest friend and most loyal ally was going to be anything but one of us. Someone had to prove to him that Voldemort's views were absolutely wrong, and who better than a girl he could admire entirely? No, if you were to pass on from this place, you would gain the knowledge of your past lives and all the memories that are yours by right…until the next time you were needed."

Hermione raised a brow to cover he shock. "If?"

Minerva nodded, face grim. "We have an opportunity. The magic the dark used to snatch the soul that became Voldemort left a kind of spiritual tear. Another soul could be sent back to that time."

Hermione took a breath. "Me?"

Minerva nodded. "If you are willing to take on this task. Time is fluid. If you should change the course of history in one way or another, the change would be real."

"Until one side or another sends someone back to change what I did."

Minerva shook her head. "No. As I said, the spell that took our champion's soul and submerged it in darkness was centuries in the making. Once it was used, the forces of light could shield against it. They only had one chance to use this trick, I'll guarantee that. And as for our side…we only have one shot at this. Once we send a soul back, the rip that was caused by that evil spell will heal, and the light will not be able to do anything like this again."

"So I'll be on my own."

"Well…there will be agents of the light and of the darkness, but none of them will realize why. It would be too much, to carry so many lives with them when they are born. Most champions never realize what they are."

"So I won't have my memory?"

Minerva shook her head. "No. If you agree, we will send you there as child, almost Hogwarts age. You'll have the memories from this life to guide you."

Hermione sighed. "And if I don't agree?"

Minerva nodded to herself. "Another champion will be sent. Neville is the last of your generation to return."

Hermione nodded. "I'll do it of course."

Minerva smiled. "Of course. You are one of our most powerful agents for good Hermione." The other woman's tone turned to the more familiar business-like tone. "Now, during this time, unlike your last life, the most powerful weapon of darkness is not pain and terror, but deception. Not that they don't cause a lot of pain and terror, but deception requires a different sort of battle. It will seek to seduce first. Also, you know that Grindelwald is an agent of darkness and Albus is an agent of light, but this doesn't make either of them infallible. Dumbledore was exactly the wrong sort of person to approach Tom Riddle, a boy who had lived so much darkness was immediately put off by the candy-covered shell that Dumbledore hid behind. Tom knew from the start it was a mask, and he distrusted adults in general and masks in particular. Once the damage from the orphanage was done, it would have taken a huge infusion of love and kindness to save him."

"So you are sending me back before the damage was done."

Minerva sighed. "Not all of it." Her shoulders slumped. "And you'll have to live through a bit of it too if you are going to be there with him. You'll be ten and a half. Be very careful. Remember, corruption and seduction are the tools they will use this time. Protect yourself, protect Tom if you can. If you save him, you save the world."

Hermione took a deep breath, and she was suddenly somewhere…else.

 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

A stark-looking woman was hurrying her through grim, bare halls. "You'll have to keep up. How old did you say you were?"

"Ten and a half."

The matron nodded as she steered the bushy haired little girl into what was grandly known as the 'dining hall' at Wool's…another cold grey room.

Mrs. Cole attracted the children's attention as she walked to the front of the room. Most of the children had a dull, defeated look about them. Hermione found herself wishing for a wand.

"Children, this is Hermione Granger. Her parents died in an accident and she was just released from the hospital. She doesn't remember her life from before very well, so please don't pester her with questions and try to aid her if you can." The matron gave Hermione a little push toward the tables. "Take one bowl of soup and find a seat. You get three crackers from the bowl, no more. Milk is served once a week before church on Sunday."

Looking at the greasy, unappetizing soup Hermione felt herself longing for Hogwarts already.

She looked around, but the hall was fairly crowded. There was half an empty table around Tom Riddle though, so she headed over.

His brows rose as she slid into the spot in front of him.

"Hello."

He rolled his eyes but didn't answer. She blew on the soup to cool it. She dipped in one of the hard, nutty 'crackers'. Awful. With food like this one wondered how the boy survived at all.

She didn't chatter; she just finished her soup. It looked like it was late March at Wool's. This summer they would be receiving their Hogwarts letters.

A tall shadow interrupted her thoughts. "Granger."

She looked up at the other child…a girl. She had an unpleasant smirk on her face.

"I am Edna Williams. Mrs. Cole told me to show you around." There was something tight about the set of Tom's shoulders that tipped off Hermione that this wasn't true.

Hermione was hardy afraid. She decided to call the girl on her lie. "That's fine. Let's go to her office first, she told me to come and see her directly after lunch." Mrs. Cole had said no such thing, but Edna couldn't know that.

The girl tried to brazen it out. "She said you could do whatever it is later. She's tied up for the moment."

Tom's knuckles were white. Hermione really didn't want to know what Edna did to the new kids. But there was a part of her that also didn't want this little bully to continue.

Hermione decided that if she had to face the girl down, she might as well do it quickly. She picked up her bowl and held her head high. "Where should I put my dishes?"

The girl frowned, like the question was too hard. "You'll be sorted into a work group when she finishes the paperwork. Leave the bowl there…it's Tom's day to clear the tables." The girl reached over and tapped Tom on the head in a parody of a friendly pat.

Hermione put one hand on Edna's arm, distracting her. She nodded to Tom who looked miserable.

Edna led her to a deserted hallway before trying to slam her into the wall. Hermione had been waiting for just such a thing, and she danced out of the way. The hallway didn't give her much room to maneuver, but she ended up with her back to the blank wall. Edna was rubbing her arm because it had hit the wall when Hermione got out of the way.

"Memory or not, everything about you screams that you are someone's spoiled little princess." The girl's voice dripped with hatred that was disturbing, even as Hermione listened through the mind of someone who had already lived one life.

Hermione shrugged wearily. "The people who loved me aren't here anymore. What does it matter?"

Edna's smirk returned. "What matters Princess, is that you'll have some nice little trinkets in your case, yeah?" She walked slowly toward Hermione. Hermione knew she needed to strike quickly or she would be in tight quarters where the odds were not in her favor.

"So this is a simple shakedown? No wonder you came up so quickly. You didn't want someone else to get to me first."

"Well, that, and you are a pretty little princess. I know gentlemen who would love to meet you. And if you are a good girl and do everything they say, they'll give you a lolly." Edna leered, enjoying some mental picture.

Hermione dipped into the girl's mind to be sure she meant what it sound like she meant. She recoiled. That. Was. Disgusting.

And it explained Tom's reaction to Edna.

Hermione was sure the girl had been faced with exactly this sort of treatment, but that didn't excuse it.

She managed a wandless stunner just as Edna grabbed her arm.

The girl was tossed arse over teakettle just as Tom came up the stair.

He took a long look at Edna and another at Hermione and wordlessly pulled her into a room and locked the door.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Funny that he was the one saying that when she'd just left a nearly-full grown woman laid out in the dingy hall.

This appeared to be Tom's own room. The three white shirts hanging in the closet would fit him, and the single pair of neatly pressed trousers would as well.

Tom looked at her curiously. "How did you do that to Edna?"

Hermione shrugged. "She fell."

Tom grinned, and even on an eleven year old it was a just a tiny bit scary. "I'm sure she did. But something happened before that. Good job you know. Not many people know how to tell the truth while hiding all the facts. It is a clever ploy, but I need to know." His voice was low and persuasive.

Hermione tossed her hair. He was already a human lie detector. She gave him a cheeky grin. "It must be magic then. One minute she was standing there, saying some very nasty things to me, and the next she was splayed out on the floor like a rag doll. Perhaps she has a drinking problem?"

Tom laughed a little. "Oh she has lots of problems. You want to stay away from her if you can. Never let her get you alone, never eat any candy she gives you. Not all of the runaways from Wool's run away on their own."

Hermione shuddered, horrified. "She's evil."

Tom shrugged. "Yes. But you hurt her…you were able to stop her."

Hermione nodded.

Tom shuddered, his confident facade peeling away. "Teach me. Please. I'd do anything…sometimes odd things happen around me too, but.."

Hermione softened. "You can't control it."

"I can when it comes to some things. I can make animals do what I want without training them, and snakes speak to me. And once, when Edna took me out of the orphanage, I made the man she took me to hurt. I knew he wanted to hurt me, so I hurt him first. I ran back and she's never tried to take me again…but I'm always scared she will…"

How do you explain to a child that had lived through that that 'hurting them first' wasn't the right thing to do? She wasn't sure it that is was wrong in that situation. If he'd used a stick to defend himself she wouldn't have argued the point.

Hermione shook her head. She hated the darkness that was using these attacks to conquer this boy's soul.

She pulled him into a hug.

He was stiff for a moment, twitchy, like he feared the human contact. Then he relaxed and buried his head in her hair.

And she knew she would do whatever it took to save this child from the army of darkness that was determined to attack him.

"We need a place to practice."

 _ **AN: So…what do you think? I know this has been done before, but I wanted to explore it a bit, and the idea just kept coming up. Expect an update Tuesday!**_


	2. Chapter 2

Tom was an able student, and he even showed her some of his favorite spells. She had never used legilimency much though she knew the theory well. Tom was a natural, reaching into people's minds with an ease that astounded her. That might be a problem as they aged and grew more powerful, but for now, the occlumency skills she'd gained later in life were enough.

They quickly became known about the orphanage for doing everything together, even going so far as sleeping in each other's rooms.

Tom told her solemnly the first night, "It's safer to have someone in your room. I don't want the boys who will room with me anywhere near me, so I make sure they are afraid of me. But I wouldn't mind you…"

She pulled him into another hug; he was learning to tolerate them.

During the dark nights, she told him about magic, and Hogwarts and that they would soon leave the horrible orphanage for most of the year.

His eyes were wide. "We aren't freaks."

She gave him a one-sided smile. "Freakishly good, but no…not freaks."

He looked slightly uncertain, which tugged at her heart a bit, because Tom never looked uncertain. "Will the other accept us? When we get to Hogwarts, they aren't just going to tell us that we're too poor or too…" He stumbled there, not knowing what they might face, but unwilling to accept that it could possibly be easy. "We're still orphans."

"It's Hogwarts. They've always accepted all kinds of students. Some of them won't like it, but we'll get to learn magic."

Tom took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. "This is the truth, right? I can normally tell when someone is lying…"

She snorted. "That's a trick you shouldn't admit to either. Not when we get there. And don't let people know you can talk to snakes…there have been a couple of dark wizards that have been able to so it frightens people."

Tom looked interested, and not in a way that made Hermione comfortable. She took his hand. "Look, we'll be safer once we get to Hogwarts. There are still problems in the magical world, but it will be safer than here, and there will be adults who will be able to fix things here as well. It might still be less than comfortable, but it shouldn't be dangerous."

"How do you know all of this?"

Hermione made a habit of never, ever lying to him. She was trying to earn his trust and pretty lies would only break it eventually. "I've known about the magical world for most of my life. Elsewhere. It was different there, but some things are the same. I've read books and talked to people."

"Why haven't they come and taken us away from this place then…if we're special?"

"Magic people are still only people. I don't think they know we're here…and they won't until someone comes to bring our Hogwarts letters. Once they do, we'll ask them to look into the illegal things at least."

"Like Edith."

Hermione nodded fiercely. Edith was a problem. All the children were terrified of her, but she had a smooth way of speaking to Mrs. Cole, and she supplied the older woman's gin. Minerva had been right about the woman. She wasn't a bad sort, but she was addled by her addition.

Hermione didn't know where Edith had been before she came to Wool's, but the sixteen year old was already steeped in darkness. Hermione tried to keep the other children in groups when the girl was prowling (Edith had not forgotten the strange moment In the hallway, but so far Hermione had avoided being alone with her…and after a powerful stunner to the head like that, there was some chance Miss Edith wasn't keen to chance angering the other girl a second time.) But that didn't keep her from harming the others.

"We have to find a way to stop her. She can't be allowed near children when we're gone."

Tom sighed, but didn't argue. He wouldn't mind revenge on Edith if he could attain it without putting his neck on the line. He just didn't think he _could_.

Then again, he world had altered a bit since Hermione had entered it. "Do you know any magic that will help?"

"We don't need magic, we just need for her to get caught doing something bad enough for Mrs. Cole to send her away."

"Mrs. Cole can't send any of us away. If she could, believe me, I would have been the first one she would have shipped off. But the state pays for this orphanage, so she can't get rid of any of us…" He stopped, suddenly quiet.

Hermione smiled encouragement. "You've thought of something."

"She's always arranging for me to see doctors…you know the kind that run loony bins. If Edith had some kind of break down when one was here to see me, she could get shipped off to one of those."

Hermione considered it. Asylums in the thirties had not been known for their excellent conditions. Then again, the other option was prison…and it was a tossup as to which place she really belonged. Hermione had tried to sneak inside the mind of the troubled girl from a distance, but the scenes had been enough to nauseate her and the pure hate rolling in the girl's mind made her loathe to try again.

There was a small store of muggle coins in her baggage. If they could slip away to Diagon Alley they could pick up the ingredients for a potion that might help.

Mind made up, Hermione explained the situation to Tom and Tom found a way to get them out of the orphanage.

 **HGHGHGHG**

The bartender at the Leaky Cauldron let them into Diagon Alley when they explained that they had gotten lost. Hermione was nearly in tears so he wasn't inclined to ask many questions.

"That was rather brilliant acting." Tom's look was full of admiration.

She blushed. "Thanks. I've had a bit of practice. I once had a couple of friends who pulled me into all sorts of mischief."

She didn't miss the possessive, annoyed look on Tom's face. She looped her arm through his. "Don't be like that. I loved them dearly, but I don't think I'll ever see them again…or not for years and years at any rate."

Tom didn't look happy, but he let her hold his arm. She grinned at him. "C'mon. I want to show you…everything."

And she did. They changed the money at Gringott's, and Tom was polite to the goblins. After that, Hermione took him in and out of shops, let him gaze in windows, and even bought both of them licorice wands.

"I'd forgotten how good these were."

Tom just took in everything with wide eyes.

"When we get our school lists we will have to get our supplies from these shops."

"How? We don't have any money."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose the orphanage will have to pay for our school things."

Tom hung his head. "We'll be going to school in the clothing we are wearing then. Mrs. Cole can barely keep us fed."

Hermione straightened her shoulders. "I wouldn't worry about that. I know other orphans have gone to Hogwarts before. There must be a fund or something set up."

Tom breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked unhappy with the arrangement.

Hermione continued, "For now, we just need a few things…basic ingredients really. I have enough to cover it."

It turned out, she'd overestimated a bit. She had eleven sickles left after she bought what they absolutely had to have. Enough to cover a battered copy of the 1898 version of _Hogwarts, A History_ in a second-hand book shop.

The shopkeeper looked a bit surprised when Hermione asked him to charm the book so it looked like Muggle fairytales.

Tom interrupted. "Better make it a math book actually. No one takes a math book."

Hermione turned to the man. "We're orphans. But we expect to go to Hogwarts next term. We have to take the book back but we don't want to do anything to undermine the statute of secrecy."

The older wizard nodded his approval and charmed the book. He gave Hermione a wink. "That's a notice-me-not charm. Don't use it to read in class or Professor Merrythought will hex your…well, she won't put up with anything in class, that's for sure."

Hermione thanked him and she and Tom took reluctantly left the magical world and made their way back.

They took their prizes to an abandoned garden shed next to the orphanage. Hermione lit a small fire with difficulty (flint and steel…honestly, Hermione couldn't wait to get closer to her proper time, or at least get a wand in her hand). Then she quickly chopped the red geranium root and measured out three tablespoons of frog spawn. She put an old iron dutch oven over the fire (Tom had liberated it from the kitchen). Tom was torn between watching her brew and devouring the book with his eyes.

Half an hour later she bottled a completed potion. It was one she'd brewed quite a bit at one point. It brought out one's darkest fears to the forefront of the mind so they could be dealt with…a bit like a boggart. In her time, the use of this potion for anything but therapeutic reasons would have been grounds for imprisonment, but in this time it hadn't been invented.

Tom looked up from the book long enough to ask "What's that going to do?"

Hermione shrugged. "Probably just send her into screaming fits. She's going to see things that aren't there. It ought to be enough to get her tossed in a loony bin if we do it at the right time."

She told herself again that this was the best way. She and Tom could defend themselves, but the other children couldn't.

Still, it bothered her to think that they would likely toss her in a padded room.

"Are any of the doctors who come to see you…kind?"

Tom shook his head. "Most of them are as dotty as the people they keep locked up."

Hermione frowned. "We can't let her continue what she's been doing."

"How are we going to stop her?"

"Maybe I could do a wandless confundus charm…its fifth year work with a wand though."

Tom's eyes were wide. Hermione smiled. "I'm going to try it anyway."

 **HGHGHGHGHGHG**

She did try. And try. And try. She managed to cast several wandless jinxes at the girl, but couldn't even manage a mild confusion charm.

Edith was quite unhappy that she'd been having such odd fits and starts. The successful jelly-legs jinx was particularly humiliating to the girl. She (rightly) blamed Hermione. She started avoiding the younger girl even during meal times.

Hermione had a new thought.

"Edith."

The other girl blanched. Mrs. Cole noticed. Hermione gave the matron a pleasant smile and then caught up with a very disturbed Edith who had been walking quickly down the hall.

"I don't want bad things to happen to you Edith."

The girl's color changed from white to nearly transparent.

"Don't take any more children from the orphanage, not for any reason. I won't be able to guarantee that very bad things won't happen to you if you do that."

Edith hissed "You don't understand. I have promises to keep. The people who brought me in on this in the first place won't stop, even if I do what you're asking…and I won't end up in the Thames for anyone."

Her eyes were fierce.

Hermione sighed. She handed the girl a bottle with a small amount of the potion that she'd brewed in it. "Sneak them this. If you do it when they are in public, they won't be coming back. They'll end up in Bedlam."

Edith's eyes lit up with sadistic glee, then turned hard and suspicious. "Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "I knew you weren't doing this on your own. You have one shot to keep the bastards away from all of us."

Then Hermione turned and walked away.

Tom shook his head. "She'll be on guard now."

Hermione nodded. "That makes it hard, but not impossible. And if she manages to get rid of the adults who have been preying on this place, we'll be ahead of the game."

Edith was as vicious as even Hermione could have wished. Several of the kitchen maids were talking about the local toughs getting 'a bad batch of gin' the next day.

"Barmy…went completely barmy, shouting all kinds of things, running away from things only they could see."

Another maid nodded sagely. "Mighta been mixin' it with somthin' other than tonic water."

The entire community was unsurprised when the men in question were hauled off to serve on the front lines of the war that had only just begun. Hermione couldn't help being just a tad disturbed at how the mentally ill were treated, but since the men in question were in fact evil gits rather than mental, she decided to let it slide.

Edith purred. "That'll be the end of that. Some of the officers heard what they was talking about…it was mostly about what they liked to do to little kids. I don't imagine the blighters will be back this way."

Hermione nodded. "Don't get involved with anything like that again Edith." There was steel in Hermione's voice and the other girl looked down.

"I'm glad to be out of it, t' be honest."

Hermione smiled. "Good."

Tom looked on with his arms crossed. "She didn't deserve that much mercy."

Hermione nodded. "No, she didn't. But she was sixteen, and I've seen her memories. They don't really bear inspection." Hermione shuddered.

Tom nodded. He'd caught glimpses of the girl's mind as well. "Are you still going to get her tossed into the asylum?"

Hermione shrugged. "That depends on her."

 **HGHGHG**

Thankfully, Edith seemed to realize that she had been given a second chance. She'd watched what the potion had done to the men she'd dosed. She didn't think for a moment that Hermione had given away her only supply of it. She wasn't the brightest girl, but she had well honed self-preservation instincts. The Riddle kid was frightening, but the bushy-haired girl was something else. Edith recognized it well enough and stayed in line.

She managed to get a job on one of the assembly lines a month afterward and bid everyone at the orphanage good-bye.

Hermione watched her go with mixed feelings. She was almost an adult, and she'd done some horrible things. Hermione had been in Tom's mind during one of his nightmares and she knew very well what the man in his memories would have done if Tom hadn't been able to defend himself. She doubted that it was the first time Edith had led another child into the clutches of the procurers. If nothing else, it might have kept the girl from being used that way herself…though something told Hermione that it wasn't so. Edith had all the marks of someone who had endured long term abuse. She really wasn't quite right in the head. On the other hand, she was quite capable of learning and she wasn't going to be around children anymore. Hermione supposed that was the best she could do without a wand or a decent adult.

And the orphanage was not exactly awash with decent adults.

No, she wasn't happy with the decision she'd been forced to make, but it was better than leaving the children unprotected entirely.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione and Tom spent most of May preparing for the visit from Dumbledore that Hermione knew was coming.

She warned Tom to be on his best manners. "If it is Albus Dumbledore, be careful about what you say and how you say it. He's a powerful wizard. If we're lucky, he'll be able to do something about the orphanage…make it safe somehow."

"What do you mean, if we're lucky? I thought you said he would help."

"The Ministry hides the existence of wizard-kind, it has since the burning times."

Tom's face took on a brooding, angry look. She grabbed his arm and squeezed. "I'm sure he will help if he can."

"You mean he'll help if it isn't any trouble."

"I mean if the Ministry won't toss him in Azkaban over it."

"What's Azkaban?"

"The wizarding prison. I don' want to talk about it." The truth was, she didn't know if the dementors had already been allowed into the place and mentioning them would be a huge mistake if they weren't already there. She made a mental note to check.

She took a deep breath. "I hope that someone from Hogwarts will be able to fix this situation, but I am certain they won't leave us in it. If they are unwilling to help muggle children, they'll at least keep us safe." Oh, what a cowardly way to put it. But Hermione had not forgotten the truth. These dark things were happening because Tom was being attacked. Removing him from the situation would remove the deliberate focused attack on the orphanage.

Tom still looked mulish. "We can protect ourselves. Especially once we get wands."

The look in his eye promised retribution to everyone who had wronged him.

Hermione huffed "We won't be able to use our wands until we come of age, that's seventeen in the wizarding world. We'll have to pass tests and things."

Tom looked nervous for a moment. Hermione smiled at him. "We don't have anything to worry about. Except making sure we don't get expelled."

Tom still looked slightly mutinous. "This just keeps getting better and better."

She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. It wasn't the sort of thing he would normally allow, but he was beginning to accept it from her. "It's really going to get better. We're going to live in a castle!" A little of her longing for home slipped through her voice.

Tom's eyes took on a faraway look as he tried to imagine it, but then he turned to her abruptly. "What about after Hogwarts? Do they just chuck us out?"

She sighed. "No. They'll try to help us get apprenticeships or jobs. Besides, we'll have our wands and all that knowledge. We can do anything. I was thinking about several options myself." She was seriously considering making a philosopher's stone. Several alchemists had made them in the years after the war, but Hermione had been entirely too busy to give it a go. If she was going to have to sit through her first few years of Hogwarts again, she was going to need a distraction.

And Tom wasn't the only one who was very tired of poverty. Hermione had never actually endured it in her last life…it wasn't her favorite thing.

Tom brought her back to earth with a poke. "What are you thinking Hermione?"

She smiled at him. "I think I'll change the world. Want to help?"


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbledore showed up as expected on the first of June with only one small hiccup. He planned to deliver _one_ Hogwarts letter. Tom was called to Mrs. Cole's office, with Hermione in tow as was their habit. Dumbledore asked to speak to Tom in private. Mrs. Cole tried to hustle Hermione out of the office. Hermione caught the professor's eye and moved a knick knack on the desk three inches exactly. The professor's twinkling blue eyes blinked rapidly and he quickly arranged for an interview with both children.

He seemed positively delighted though…of course, she'd seen him look delighted at wand point, so she didn't trust the twinkle. "Very odd…I've never seen a British child that wasn't on the list." Hermione wanted to throttle whatever champion of light that had neglected that small detail but she kept a neutral expression on her face. Dumbledore was looking intently at her. "Is it possible that you were born outside of Great Britain?"

Hermione looked up, a little surprised. "My parents never mentioned that I had been…"

"Parents often keep small details from children because they feel they are too young to cope." Blast. She could practically see the wheels in his head turning. She didn't want to know what sort of convoluted origin story he was concocting for her. She could tell he was taking in her appearance carefully. Probably searching for signs of some pure blood family or another. They all seemed to run to type…inbreeding would do that. The Professor prompted her, "Perhaps you were originally slated to go to another school?"

Hermione shrugged again. "My parents were muggles, but a witch convinced them that magic is a reality because she knew when she met me that I was different."

Dumbledore nodded. "I should imagine any witch would recognize the signs. Hogwarts will be happy to welcome you to the next term Miss Granger…"

His interest in her was slightly vexing, but it was better than his avid interest being turned toward Tom.

Hermione didn't give him a moment to ponder. "I need you to understand there is something terribly wrong with this place."

The older wizard cocked his head in encouragement to go on.

Hermione lowered her voice, shooting a worried glance at the door. "There are men who have been using this place to supply customers with…children." The wizard's eyes widened and there was less twinkling and more fire in them. Hermione took a deep breath and continued "Those men are being shipped to the front lines of the war effort, they were betrayed by the girl they'd convinced to help…but they won't stay there forever. Once they get back, they'll do it again. Or others who knew what they were up to will."

Dumbledore nearly growled. "I think not." He took out a quill and several scrolls. "I must know, are either of you injured?"

Tom answered for both. "We had magic. The others didn't. Some of them didn't come back. Mrs. Cole thinks they ran away. Hermione wasn't here yet, but I don't think they left because they wanted to. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop are still here, but they aren't right anymore. She cries all the time and he has this dead look in his eyes."

Within moments there were several neatly written, precisely worded letters and Fawks burst into the room in a shower of red and gold sparks.

Tom startled more than Hermione. "What is that?"

Hermione sighed, wishing she had the coins for a familiar. She missed Crooks.

"That is a phoenix. They are really rare."

Dumbledore looked at her intently once again. "You are a very well-informed young lady."

Hermione shrugged. "The witch that found me had lots of books. She let me borrow them."

This was actually true since McGonagall had been the one that had contacted Hermione's parents. The witch had brought her books and then took them to Diagon Alley to get more. Hermione's eyes started to tear up. Merlin's proboscis. Being a child was difficult. Every emotion was so immediate.

Dumbledore's eyes softened when he saw the sheen of her eyes. "Where is the witch now?"

Hermione was at a loss at first. She wasn't about to lie outright. "I don't know. My parents found out we were in danger from a dark wizard. They didn't know his real name." She looked down, because she didn't need him reading her at that moment. "My parents aren't here anymore. I haven't seen Minerva in months. I don't think she's coming for me. And if she was able to, she would."

She actually did start crying then, and Dumbledore handed her a handkerchief. He was still convinced there was some mystery about her presence.

Dumbledore turned to Tom. "What about you? Do you know who your parents were?"

Tome shrugged. "My mother died giving birth to me here at the orphanage. She named me Tom for my father and Marvolio for her father. Do you know of my family?"

Dubmbledore shook his head slightly. "I don't know any Riddles, though there are some Grangers. I believe there was a Minerva in that bloodline…or perhaps her name was Athena…mayhap she was disguising her origin?"

The old man was such a nosey parker. Honestly, if there wasn't a scandal, he'd make one up!

She took Tom's hand. "I don't really care about that bloodline nonsense."

Tom looked at her with shy admiration. She smiled at him. "Isn't it better to choose your family anyway?"

Dumbledore's lips quirked; he was undoubtedly thinking of his own brother.

The future headmaster pulled out a key. "This will allow you to go to Gringotts and withdraw enough gold to get your school things. I'll send them a note regarding the amount."

Hermione perked up. "The Wizarding bank? Are there really goblins?" She and Tom had already been, but she didn't want to give Dumbledore that impression if she could help it.

Dumbledore laughed a bit. "I'll arrange to come with you. I would love to see the two of you experience the magical world for the first time."

She tried to backpedal. "We'll be alright professor. As long as we are together we don't have anything to fear."

The older man shook his head. "I insist."

What could she say to that?

 **HGHGHGHG**

She had to admit, champion of the light or not, she wasn't really looking forward to spending the day with Dumbledore. She didn't want him around Tom more than absolutely necessary. Tom agreed, though he had his own reasons, reasons he didn't choose to share. Hermione didn't push.

Of course, neither she nor Tom had any real say in the matter. The professor arrived wearing a bright orange tuxedo with matching cummerbund and top hat. It was even worse than the leisure suit he'd worn the first time he showed up.

Hermione's flinched when she saw the color and Dumbledore smiled. "Embarrassed to be seen with me Miss Granger?"

"Well, it is an unforgettable look…" She quickly realized what she'd said and her eyes narrowed. He wanted everyone to focus on him rather than the students he was shepherding. In the muggle world the color was too unusual to miss and in the wizarding world the eye-catching muggle attire would raise eyebrows and make tongues wag. No one would remember anything at all about Hermione and Tom. If questioned, they'd be 'two children'.

It was a bloody brilliant bit of non-magical misdirection.

But why?

Grindlewald.

It was the obvious answer. The dark wizard was probably having Dumbles followed.

The urge to cast protective or concealment charms was nearly overwhelming. Hermione forced herself to relax. Spells would draw the attention that Dumbledore was trying to avoid. Also, there was every reason to believe that her lack of a wand combined with her current youth would keep her from casting anything more difficult than a protego.

Despite the manipulations she quite clearly remembered, Dumbledore had done his best through two wars, avoiding the taint of darkness and using his power and brilliance to protect as many people as he could. Was he heavy handed? Yes. But he was also a very young champion if what Minerva had said was true, and he'd had more on his plate than the light had planned for him to face, with Tom being lured away.

She felt a wave of almost maternal warmth for both of them in that moment. She'd been sent back to protect Tom, yes, but also to make some things right. She'd do what she could for Dumbledore as well.

Dumbledore looked at her curiously, having watched her face as she'd thought. "Are you ready?"

She nodded and took Tom's hand in her right and the professor's hand in her left.

Neither questioned her, but she could feel the curiosity coming off them in waves. She would explain a bit to Tom later. Dumbledore would just have to content himself with guessing for now.

They took a cab to the Leaky Cauldron (the driver kept giving Dumbledore looks). Once there, Dumbledore nodded to the bartender and hustled them into Diagon Alley. Hermione was quite sure that the professor could tell that they'd snuck in before, but he just twinkled at her and didn't mention it. It was probably better if Hermione didn't mention using a medicinal potion on a group of thugs to make them hallucinate. That sort of information might ruin the perfectly lovely time they were having.

And the trip was actually more fun than she'd imagined. She and Tom were allowed to spend the entire morning in Flourish and Blots, though it didn't take very long to pick up their school books. They raced from shelf to shelf, sighing over the glossy covers. Dumbledore took a stack of knitting magazines to a corner and let the browse, but he was always available when Hermione asked him if a specific book was available in the Hogwarts library. Hermione was practically aching to be back among the treasured tomes of her youth. It had been many years since she'd haunted those shelves at Hogwarts and now she would have access to them again.

Dumbledore pried them away from the books and paid for a nice little luncheon off one of the carts. He insisted on buying and Hermione didn't argue too much. The funds for their robes and things were somewhat less than she'd hoped. There would be no extra reading material and many more second hand robes. She bit back her irritation. She moved her money making schemes up a bit in her priorities. Being poor was another sort of powerlessness. That sort of powerlessness was probably one of the things that had made Tom the way he was. When she felt powerless in one area, she was more likely to control what she could…thus her reputation for color coded study schedules during her own time at Hogwarts.

After they were done nibbling on their lunch, they went into a dingy little shop the Professor recommended and got what Hermione privately agreed was a very good deal on used equipment. Apparently, a lot of students dumped their old cauldrons after fifth year when they stopped taking potions. That meant they had their choice of basic equipment, and some of it looked barely used.

They were a little less lucky in the matter of robes. Most of them were a bit worn out. The old witch at the counter, noticing that they'd come in with Dumbledore, did some basic spells to improve the color and the fit, and did a sly little quirk of the wand on the last spell to make sure Hermione's robes hung correctly. Hermione's eyes widened. She'd never seen that spell before. Purebloods did have their little tricks to wordlessly say who fit in and who didn't.

It was evening before they arrived at Ollivander's. The bell on the shop door tinkled merrily as they walked in.

Hermione motioned for Tom to go first. He was practically bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Olivander might be younger, but he didn't really look it. He had the same sort of white-blond hair that she'd always associated with the Malfoys, and his eyes were an odd shade. In fact, if anything, he was creepier now than he'd been when she was eleven. He'd just been old then. Now he was a fey thing…he brought to mind ancient priests of some reclusive oracle.

After a moment of small talk, the wandmaker dropped a length of oak into Tom's hand. It sputtered and hissed. Seemingly intrigued, Olivander pulled out a dozen boxes, and only looked more pleased as each was rejected.

"Rosewood and unicorn hair" shattered all of the windows in the shop. "Ebony and dragon heartstring" left a nine inch burn on the table. "Broomwood and leprechaun eyebrows" sat there totally inert.

By the end of an hour Olivander was looking completely chuffed, Tom was decidedly annoyed, and Hermione was trying to rid her hair of plaster from a recent bolt to the roof.

Hermione saw the wandmaker pull out the length of yew with a silent groan. "Yew and phoenix tail feather core, over 13 inches." was placed into his hands. It glowed so brightly she had to look away.

Hermione shoved her disappointment down. Both wand and boy were young. They didn't have to grow the way they'd become the first time around.

Dumbledore and Olivander exchanged a significant look (probably because of Fawks' tail feather). As they did a dusty blue box fell off a shelf and a wand rolled right at Hermione's feet. Without thinking, she reached down and picked it up.

It was made of two pieces of wood, twined together. The moment she picked it up, there was a sound, like the world holding its breath, and then a sigh. She'd never felt anything so right. It was like a warm fire on a cold day, like hot cocoa and warm cookies.

Olivander cleared his throat. "Ash and rowan, phoenix tail feather, twelve inches exactly."

Hermione still was gazing at it. The wandmaker spoke again. "It was my great-grandmother's wand. I brought it in some time ago to study it."

The words hit Hermione like a muggle truck. She took a deep breath and tried to hand the wand back. It was almost painful and the wand didn't want to go.

Olivander put his hands up, refusing to take it back. "No, no. That wand is your wand now. It was unmistakable in its choice. It wouldn't be any use to me now. It's quite old and very stubborn. Not the sort of wand a child should have for her first wand, but the wand chooses the witch. It's not always quite clear why. I think we can expect great things from the two of you. After all, the witches who have carried that wand have all been great…some were terrible, yes. But all great. And as for the young gentleman, that is a very powerful instrument that chose him."

Dumbledore broke the moment. "I expect great things from all of my students. Pay for the wands children."

In the end, Olivander wouldn't take a knut for the wands. He kept chuckling to himself. Dumbledore didn't look happy about that, but he took them back to the orphanage without any other issues. He might have looked at them oddly as he helped take their trunks to their rooms, but he didn't say anything, and that was good enough for Hermione.

 **HGHGHGHG**

The surly groundskeeper consented to loading their trunks in the old truck he used and took them to King's Cross early on the morning of September first.

Despite the excitement both she and Tom felt, it was a quiet drive.

Dumbledore had explained carefully about platform 9 1/2, so there was no confusion. They leaned casually against the wall and slipped in with little fuss. Tom was enchanted by the sight of the steaming Hogwarts express and the people in wizarding robes. They were very early, so no one noticed as they hustled into a carriage. They took turns changing and by the time they were done, the other carriages were beginning to fill up.

Her hair was as bushy as it had been when she was truly eleven, and she had that atrocious overbite she intended to correct as soon as she got to school, but it hardly mattered. Tom on the other hand was as neat as a pin with his robes and his hair combed just so. He looked every inch the perfect Hogwarts first year with his shoes shined and his nails trimmed.

She resisted the urge to muss his perfect hair a bit and straightened his tie instead. "You look very handsome Tom."

He blushed slightly. To cover his embarrassment, she took out her wand and used that spell that made his robes hang perfectly. The magic was non-verbal, but it was an easy spell, and she was hoping people wouldn't notice. She did it on herself as well…just as a familiar-looking blond head was passing by.

He was older, fifth year if she was any judge, but well grown for his age. He was tall but unlike his grandson, he was already developing the arms and broad shoulders of a beater.

"That's not bad for a first year." He took out the wand and replicated the spell on Hermione's robes. "It's almost impossible to do it right on yourself without a mirror. There was a little wrinkle left on the back of your robe."

She looked down, surprised at the open, friendly look on the boy's face. She gave him a small smile and said 'Thank you'.

He offered his hand to Tom first. "Abraxus Malfoy."

Tom took it with just the right note of strength in his hand. The boy really was a genius at reading people.

"I'm Tom Riddle, and my friend is Hermione Granger."

Abraxus took Hermione's hand and kissed it. She did not blush. She'd been in these situations with purebloods before in the years after the war. "Charmed."

The boy had lovely blue eyes. She just didn't especially like the slight calculation she saw in them.

He didn't keep the calculation from his eyes, but his voice and manner were entirely charming. "Do you have siblings here at Hogwarts? I know there are some Grangers running around Hogwarts, but most of them are Huffelpuff so we aren't well acquainted."

Tom answered for both of them. "We're orphans. We were raised with Muggles."

Malfoy looked like he'd bitten into a bad apple.

"How extraordinary." He was smarter than his grandson though, more subtle. "Well, I look forward to seeing you both sorted! I'm a prefect for Slytherin this year, so if you need assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

Tom raised an eyebrow after Abraxus left. "And what was that?"

"That is a Malfoy. Pureblood through and through." Tom raised a brow and she realized that she hadn't explained this bit of wizarding culture yet.

"Some wizards and witches claim to be what's called pure bloods. They have many generations of wizarding blood. They aren't really pure of course, they produce as many squibs as muggle-borns do…they just send their squibs into the muggle world." Except for the few families that smothered a non-magical offspring. There were a few of those even in her time.

"They like to consider themselves wizarding aristocrats, and some of them, like the Malfoy family, are actually titled aristocrats, but they don't like to mention that because it shows that at one time or another they married muggles and served a king."

Tom looked at her closely. "And they must be horrid to Muggle born witches."

She gave him a wan smile. "Some of them are. Some of them are nice enough. Dumbledore is a pureblood actually. Well, I think they said his mother's mother was a muggleborn or a half-blood. Again, not that it matters. It all bleeds red, trust me."

She stopped herself because of the bitter tone. She'd forgotten, over the years, how much resentment she'd felt. Most of her life she'd been the wizarding world's golden girl, heroine of the battle of Hogwarts, later champion of underdogs everywhere. It was very hard to be eleven again after all that.

She shrugged. "They tolerate half-bloods, and from what I've heard, they keep their disdain of muggle-borns down to name calling most of the time. And it's all nonsense anyway. Some purebloods are nearly squibs and some muggle-borns are like me."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "You mean walking libraries?"

"That's the pot calling the cauldron black!" She realized then that she didn't sound much like a muggleborn really. She'd already spent an entire lifetime in the wizarding world.

She leaned forward and patted his hand. "Don't worry. You're powerful. They'll assume you are a pureblood. They'll want you to be like them so they can be better by association."

"I probably am."

She grinned at him. "Maybe you are. But it doesn't matter. I'll overlook it and still be your friend."

He smirked at her comment and then sighed. "What about you?"

"I know what I am, and I'm proud of the people my parents were. They were good people. If they'd known you, they wouldn't have left you in that place. If they were alive, we'd be at home." Her voice held a note of longing. She hadn't seen her parents in so many years, but she missed them still.

The train lurched forward with a hiss and steam rising.

"Let's don't worry about it today. Today, let's just enjoy our first glimpse of the castle. Do you know which house you want to be sorted into?"

Tom nodded. He didn't elaborate. She supposed she would find out at the feast, but she had an idea that he would most likely end up in Slytherin. Being a direct descendant of the founder would probably guarantee it.

They'd already read their school books, but Professor Dumbledore had dropped by twice through the summer with fresh reading material. Hermione assumed that he was being kind…and keeping a sharp eye on what they were learning. Heaven knew that if he hadn't brought them books they would have gotten back into Diagon Alley and found a way to read in the bookstores. At least this way, a teacher was controlling the information. She thought he was rather brilliant for doing so and wondered if he'd bothered doing this for Tom the first time around. She rather thought not.

One of the most recent books was a heavy history from his personal collection. The script was antiquated and cramped, but it covered a number of famous witches through the ages. It also happened to be a book she'd never found in her past life. Completely new reading material was always cherished.

She looked up as the sun began to set. She and Tom had been quiet for hours, enjoying their books. He was wrapped up in an account of the goblin wars.

She nudged Tom as the lake appeared. The train slowed and finally stopped. She was giddy with the idea of watching him see the castle for the first time. She kept grinning like an idiot and looking at him out of the corner of her eye. They filed off the train with the other first years. A man who wasn't Hagrid called for them to get into the boats. Hermione and Tom stuck together like velcro…better not mention velcro though. That was another thing that hadn't been invented yet. That was the sort of slip up that wouldn't do at all.

She watched Tom as he gaped at the castle for the first time. His eyes were wide as he watched the ghosts and the moving portraits. He never let on that it was all that different. He didn't gape. Not many of the children did. She frowned. It didn't look like there were that many muggle-borns in her year. She took a quick headcount. Not that many children at all. The Gryffindor class in her first year held nearly this number by itself!

She didn't have much time to contemplate that though. Soon they were filing through the tables headed toward the sorting hat. She took Tom's hand and gave it a quick squeeze as he tried to figure out the enchantments on the ceiling. They were pretty, but they weren't that impressive when it came down to it. The spells had been a lot more impressive during the founder's time. All four of them had worked out the enchantment and nothing like it had ever been seen in the world. It was a mute testimony to the power of the Hogwarts four and good enough reason for many witches and wizards to send their children to them to learn.

Auvergne, Alaric was called first, and the students quickly figured out how the sorting was done. She was surprised that the hat didn't have a song or a speech, but that must be a new tradition…something Dumbledore put into place no doubt.

Granger, Hermione was called in due time. A couple of students in Hufflepuff exchanged glances at her name, but she kept her eyes forward.

The hat was placed on her head. "Interesting, most interesting Miss Granger. There are hints of future things here. I am glad to see the future me has gotten to have a bit of fun. Dippet has not been the most innovative headmaster. Now, we seem to have a decision before us. You are, as always, a true Gryffindor. There's no doubt in that. And Hufflepuff would be proud to have you. Ravenclaw is your natural environment perhaps…but to be quite honest I think you would find this group of Ravenclaws a bit dull. Lots of rules and very little innovation in this latest batch. And if the information in your head is correct, your friend Tom will most certainly belong in Slytherin. You're quite suited to the house during this time as well. You've grown much in cunning and ruthlessness in your long life…it's quite a treat to sort you a second time, even if I haven't done it the first time yet."

The blasted hat was positively chatty. She could tell everyone was waiting. It was officially a hat-stall.

 _I suppose putting us both in Gryffindor would be too much to ask?_

The hat laughed in her head. "I don't know for certain, but off-hand I think it would be. If he is indeed one of Salazar's brood, there are enchantments that will place him in that house. Only Helga left the sorting of her descendants up to me. The others wanted to make sure their children went to the 'proper house'. Of course, I've sorted ten times the number of Hufflepuff descendants. The Ravenclaw line died out. Gryffindor never had children, and Salazar's kin tended to spawn in swamps and keep to themselves." She felt the hat's sorrow.

The others were waiting. She gave a slight nod and held her breath.

"Better be…Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table applauded quite enthusiastically (for them). Hat-stalls were fairly rare. The hat had debated for four minutes on her first go around, but she was clocked at well over five minutes this time. They were thought to indicate a powerful witch or wizard and oftentimes they did…but Hermione knew that Gilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew had been hatstalls or near hatstalls.

Then again, the most famous hatstall was Minerva McGonagall. She'd heard that the hat couldn't decide if she should be in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

Regardless, the hat's debate seemed to have cemented Abraxus' opinion of her. He welcomed her to the table with a flattering kiss to her hand and a broad smile. Hermione tried to calm her nerves without much success. This was such a bad idea. Not mentioning her ancestry from the safety of Gryffindor tower was one thing, but she was certain that lineage was a hot topic in the Slytherin common room.

A few other students were sorted while she thought furiously. Then she looked up when she heard "Riddle, Tom." The hat didn't even touch his head.

Tom smirked as he slid in beside her. Abraxus smiled at both of them. "I see your young chevalier has joined us Miss Granger."

She felt Tom tense at the term he didn't recognize. "He makes a wonderful knight in shining armor. I didn't doubt where he would be for a moment."

The sorting ended and the headmaster announced the feast after a particularly boring speech. Hermione sighed. Things were less interesting when your headmaster wasn't a mad eccentric genius.

Tom's manners were fine for a muggle, but he quickly noticed the slight differences and within the first few moments he was aping the pureblood manner. She didn't roll her eyes. This sort of thing was important for an orphan. Tom was a perfect chameleon when it came to fitting in. She wondered for a moment how he'd never managed to be adopted. Had Mrs. Cole had something to do with it, or was the darkness attacking him again?

She tried to gather information by listening to the conversation at the table. She only had mixed success with the Slytherins. On one hand, their conversation was supposed to be made up of the sort of polite nothings that implied things and never let another person know what was truly being said. Luckily for her, these were children and they weren't quite as good at this game as they liked to imagine. She could make out rivalries, family feuds, and even a couple of love affairs from her place beside the current Slytherin prince.

Like Draco, people deferred to Abraxas. He might be a fifth year in name, but he was the most influential person at the table. And a first year doing non-verbal magic had caught his interest.

She was surprised to note that every house had empty space at the tables and they weren't as long as they had been when she'd gone to Hogwarts. The pureblood noticed her distraction.

"Do the tables displease you Miss Granger?"

She shook her head. "If I am going to call you Abraxas, you must call me Hermione."

"Like the Queen from the Shakespearian play. It suits you."

Shakespeare had been a squib so she wasn't entirely surprised he was familiar with the character. She laughed lightly.

"Well Abraxas was a demon is Egyptian myth…I suppose you name suits you as well?"

His lips quirked into the signature Malfoy smirk. Dear Merlin…she couldn't believe that look was genetic!

"Perhaps it does my lady."

A girl with white-blond hair and beautiful skin made a noise like a wounded peacock.

Malfoy gave her a sideways glance. "Helga, what an uncouth noise to make at the innocent remark of a first year!"

Helga didn't say a word, but Hermione quickly decided that she'd probably annoyed the future Mrs. Malfoy.

Abraxas turned back to her with a satisfied smirk. He clearly enjoyed putting a dragon among the thestrals and was using her to do it.

She noticed that Tom's hand was on his wand and she reached over and gave his other hand a slight squeeze. Abraxas noted both the hand holding and the implied threat but didn't comment.

Dinner broke up soon after that and they followed the pale haired prefect down to the dungeon.

The password was given and memorized ( _asp_ ) and Hermione left Tom for a few minutes to find her dorm and her new mates.

Cassiopeia and Dominia Goyle were already unpacking. They were very pretty girls. The twins were totally uninterested in any form of conversation with her (since they had never met, she must be a total non-entity of some sort).

Hermione unpacked with magic, and ignored the sidelong glances the girls gave her. She went back to the common room to find Tom.

Tom wasn't all that pleased with his roommates either. Phillip Carrow and Frederick Fudge were little lumps of boys who could barely hold their wands properly.

Phillip's cousin Augusta (known in later years to Hermione as Augusta Longbottom) was headgirl. Algiers Longbottom was the headboy from Gryffindor. If Hermione remembered correctly, he was the one who had dropped an eight year old Neville out of a window and tossed him off a pier. She made a mental note to send a nice stinging hex his way at some point.

She and Tom found an empty couch and were soon joined by a skinny boy who introduced himself as Odin Nott. His glasses were cracked and Hermione sighed. It seemed that she would forever be doing this spell. "Occulous, repario."

Nott took his glasses off and gave her a grateful nod. She smiled and returned her wand to her wrist holster.

Abraxas was behind her.

"Interesting way to carry your wand ."

She shrugged. "I like to keep it handy."

Abraxas looked at the leather harness that she'd conjured. Aurors used them in her time. Surely they weren't a new invention.

He smiled at her and took a seat on her other side. Tom gave the blond a slightly unfriendly look, but she caught his hand and he smiled back at her. He didn't share and play well with others. She had the feeling that he'd never wanted a friend before he met her, and he was rather proprietary about her now.

The talk turned to Quidditch. Tom was fascinated as Nott and Malfoy described fantastic games they'd been to. Hermione summoned a book from her room quietly.

The boys noticed. "Sorry…I just hate to waste time and there is a limit to how much Quidditch talk I can pay attention to. Please don't mind me. "

Malfoy apologized and took the conversation into more academic realms, including the dueling club. "You'll quite enjoy that Hermione."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure she would. She smiled at Tom. He was practically salivating. She gave him a playful nudge. "Tom will like it more than I will, I think. I can't wait for potions myself."

Malfoy continued to play the perfect host. He was incredibly charming and she was a little unnerved to be enjoying herself so much.

A mantel clock chimed eleven and Hermione shot up. "Tom! Our first day of classes is tomorrow! We have to…"

Tom claimed her hand again. "Nothing to panic over Hermione. Get some sleep."

His eyes told her that he wished she could stay with him, but that was impossible at Hogwarts.

She kissed his cheek. "You too."

The last thing she heard as she hurried up to the girl's dorm was Malfoy inquiring how two powerful wizards had ended up at the same muggle orphanage.

She sighed. She doubted that her dorm mates would be so obliging tomorrow night once Tom told them the truth about her bloodline.

 _ **AN: Thanks for all the reviews! I was hesitant to try this particular trope (it's been done so many times before)…but my muse insisted, so here we are. I'm glad other people are enjoying it too. Expect an update either Thursday or Friday (unless something unexpected happens).**_


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was strangely quiet. Hermione went down to breakfast, spells on the tip of her tongue. She knew that in all likelihood she'd have to spend the rest of the year hexing her own house of they found out about her blood status.

But they didn't look at her differently than they had the day before. If anything, there was a newfound respect lurking in some of the older student's eyes as Malfoy motioned her to his side during breakfast.

She smelled a snake.

They left for their first class and she cast a silent muffliato.

Tom felt her cast something and raised a brow. "Did you know non-verbal spells are supposed to be sixth year work?"

She would have to watch herself. He was entirely too clever, even at eleven.

"They work for me."

Tom smirked. "I noticed. The rest of them have noticed too."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they passed a rowdy group of fourth years. "You didn't tell them."

Tom shrugged. "I didn't lie. I know you try not to, though as far as you are willing to bend the truth, it seems a little silly to claim you aren't lying." He looked at her face and found it impassive. She couldn't help it. It was a small difference, but she clung to it. Tom apparently saw what he wanted to see on her face because he smirked a little as he continued. "I told Malfoy that your parents were running from a dark wizard when they died. I let them assume the rest. I also mentioned that you don't like to be reminded of it since it hasn't been long. Most of them are compassionate enough to avoid the subject. The rest are afraid of the kind of hexes you might know since you've obviously been doing magic longer than most first years."

He had no idea.

"I didn't have much choice Tom."

He took her books and smiled. "I know. You obviously knew how to defend yourself wandlessly even before you came to the orphanage."

"But it wasn't my parents who taught me that."

Tom shrugged. "As long as someone taught it. She must have been a brilliant witch."

Hermione felt a little tug at her heart, thinking about the close relationship she'd enjoyed with Minerva in later years. "She was."

They walked down the corridor for a bit, each lost in their thoughts.

She took his hand for a moment and squeezed. He squeezed back. She knew he didn't connect to people often, but she felt like he did with her, at least a bit. Not like a normal child would…no, certainly not. He was too damaged. But he wasn't evil. Somewhere inside him was the boy who could be a champion for the light. She was determined to help him find that side of himself. But for now, she'd just be that person who was in his corner. It wasn't the big things that made true friends…it was the a hundred shared looks and thousands of moments.

 **HGHGHG**

Tom was unquestionably talented and she did her best to make sure he shined in his classes. That said, someone taking some of the spotlight was good for him. He'd never had anyone who was capable of competing with him the first time around, much less anyone who cared about him who could help guide him. She didn't let the full extent of her skill show of course, but she kept him on his toes.

She had to admit, it was hardly fair pitting someone of her experience against a boy of eleven.

But in some ways, she was still a child. Her magic was still growing, she could feel it. She also tired quickly (perhaps because she was constantly casting above her age level.)

Hormones were another issue. She occasionally shot a disgruntled look at the heavens. It was a bit much to ask someone to endure puberty twice. Enduring her basic classes twice was as bad as the mood swings.

There were differences this time around. Transfiguration was certainly her favorite subject. Dumbledore was brilliant. She tried to keep her questions at a second-year level, but it was difficult. He occasionally gave her a questioning look. In fact, he seemed to enjoy her essays, despite being rather longer than requested. Tom rolled her eyes at her enthusiasm, but he followed her lead and the two of them often discussed the theory behind subjects for hours.

There was a rather unpleasant surprise when it came to defense. Professor Merrythought had obviously been a very powerful witch in her prime, but she was completely dotty by the time Hermione and Tom arrived at Hogwarts…and not in a fake, Dumbledore-style way either…the woman was in the early stages of dementia.

Hermione watched her thoughtfully, but hadn't decided what she might do. Muggle-style dementia wasn't recognized in the magical world yet, and the professor still had more good days than bad. Hermione wondered if perhaps there had been a faulty memory charm in play, but she kept that suspicion to herself for the time being.

At any rate, at least Professor Merrythought had her good days and bad. Professor Green was a young witch that was supposed to be teaching charms, but was primarily occupied with planning her over-the-top wedding for the next summer. Hermione wanted to hex the woman so bad she felt her fingers itch. Tom noticed of course, and smirked at her.

He didn't bring it up until they were in the common room, which was good because Hermione had a hard time keeping quiet. "She's a nightmare, honestly. Wasting an entire class taking a survey about which color of ivory she should use in her place settings!" Malfoy laughed as she paced around the common room. He tried to appease her. "Charms has always been a soft option."

Hermione stomped her foot. "Well, it shouldn't be! Charms are some of the most basic spells, yes, but that doesn't mean that they don't have the potential to be quite powerful." She went into mini-professor mode (as Tom had begun calling it). "The potential is there, even if wizards haven't used it. Especially combined with arithmancy calculations…"

She noticed that half the Slytherin common room was watching her. She really needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut.

She lifted her chin. Malfoy chuckled. "Don't tell me you've already started arithmancy."

She shuffled her feet. "Just a bit. It's fascinating you know."

The blond laughed and teased her about her study habits and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. First, because she'd been about a second away from talking about a series of calculations that wouldn't exist until 1972. Secondly, because this wasn't first year work in the least. She sighed. Perhaps another champion would have been better. Neville could have befriended the young Tom Riddle as well.

A small voice in her head reminded her that Neville, who had spent many years as a dear friend, a boy that Hermione knew very well…might have actually been more likely to behead than befriend.

Tom was scratching away at a tricky essay. "You sound so disappointed Hermione."

She blushed. "It is disappointing when people don't take teaching seriously." What would her eleven year old self say? "I…just…I looked forward to coming here for so long. I suppose before I did I imagined what it would be like." She gave Tom a warm grin. "More knowledge than you could ever absorb, classes with brilliant professors, ground-breaking academic discussion over every meal." She sighed sadly. "Reality is something of a rude awaking."

Tom shook his head. "In reality, I can't believe the hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw."

She raised a brow. "It considered it. But in the end, the hat decided that though I do love learning for its own sake, I'm best suited to Slytherin."

Malfoy couldn't stand the attention being off of him for so long. "Well said." He gave her the little lazy smirk. "And for the record, I'll be happy to have academic discussions with you any time."

Tom's quill stilled at the flirtatious remark. Hermione rolled her eyes. Over half the time it seemed that the fifth year's treatment of her was solely to irritate Tom. She could tell that the comment upset the dark-headed boy. She wondered why Malfoy bothered. It seemed very odd indeed that someone so much older than they had singled them out for quite so much attention.

She walked behind her friend and whispered, "Tom, can we go to the library before curfew? I just remembered a few reference books that I need."

Tom wasn't fooled by the request, but he put away his essay and offered her his arm. By that time Malfoy was holding court with half a dozen seventh years. She shook her head as she looked back. He seemed more frivolous than anyone she'd ever met…and yet, at the same time, she knew that there was a great deal of cunning behind all that charm.

She waited until they'd exited the dungeons before she cast the muffling spell. "He would be much less amiable if you'd simply told him about my bloodline."

Tom looked her warily. "Did you want me to?"

Hermione shrugged. "I expect it will come out eventually. But I wanted to put it off until I'm older if I can. The less time I spend dodging hexes the better."

"Do you really think they would hex you?"

She thought back to Bellatrix. She nodded empathically. "I am very wary of Purebloods and the way they behave toward Muggleborns. I'm fairly certain that the charming Mr. Malfoy would spend most of his time calling me a mudblood if he knew."

Tom winced. He obviously knew the word. Funny, she hadn't learned it first year.

Tom put an awkward arm around her. "Don't let them color the way you think about yourself." His tone and eyes were fierce.

She returned his half-hug. "Not everyone is like that."

She cleared her throat and pulled away as the neared the library. "But you should know…the reason I brought that up. I wanted you to know, I was your friend first. Even if Malfoy didn't treat me differently, it wouldn't matter…you don't have to worry about the things he says." She felt her cheek heat up because she knew that Tom was not a child-like child. He knew what Malfoy implied with his outrageous flirting…it most definitely wasn't appropriate for first years. She didn't think it was really appropriate for a fifth year.

She took a deep breath. "I have no idea why he flirts with me anyway. Heaven knows he's not actually interested in a buck-toothed skinny first year…nor should he be!" She rolled her eyes. "I can't decide if that's just the way he treats females or if he just likes irritating you. But I wanted to let you know it shouldn't…irritate you I mean. I'm not fooled by all that easy charm."

Tom gave her an inscrutable look. "He is interested in you. Just not in the way that you think. Well, not really. Merlin knows he'd use his looks in a second if he thought it would work in his favor. He's ruthless when it comes to getting what he wants." Tom shrugged, unconcerned with Malfoy's lack of ethics. Hermione suppressed a sigh.

"And what do you think he wants?"

"He wants power, the same as everyone else. Malfoy already has a lot of it, but he likes to be in the know, to be the one who has connections to powerful people…any type of power. Your blood aside, he knows talent when he sees it, and he's courting you in his way…just not with an eye toward you being his girlfriend."

Hermione snorted. "I should hope not. Age difference aside, he's probably been betrothed since he was in the cradle to some unibrow sporting debutant with six fingers."

Tom's lips quirked. "Never thought I would feel sorry for Malfoy. One of the fifteen wealthiest families in the world, only heir to the fortune, and he can't have the girl he wants. Sad really." Tom looked positively gleeful.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Stop it. Like you said, he's just networking. He's only here for two more years. Then he can go be a Malfoy somewhere else."

Tom snickered as they walked into the brightly lit library, sounding more like the young boy that he actually was than he ever had before. She gave him a warm grin.

She heard a tiny sigh of relief as they headed to their usual spot. She wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been waiting for it.

 **HGHGHG**

An almost playful competition for the top rank in each class ensued. She and Tom fed off each other. It was so hard holding back, but she stopped making so many little mistakes and vigilantly kept things to a level that was believable in a gifted child.

Tom was slightly ahead of her in Astronomy (she couldn't concentrate on memorizing it as well as she had the first time, not when she knew she'd be able to look it up if she ever needed it again). He was also formidable in defense…really formidable. She admitted to herself she understood why his followers flocked to him. The pure power of his spells was impressive. She decided that he was probably showing more of what he was capable of this time around because he was competing with her.

They were still neck and neck…his reflexes were better, she was a past master of the theory behind the spells so she was able to adjust quicker and regulate her responses. But Tom's intensity was what really set him apart. There was an edge of life or death in his spell casting. Tom knew that his life very probably would depend on his ability to defend himself. So there was an edge to even his first year spells that felt dangerous.

It made her heart weep when she realized why his spells almost reeked of desperation. She wasn't sure anyone who hadn't fought a losing war would recognize it. Tom probably thought she was barking mad for the looks she gave him sometimes after he sent a particularly powerful jinx her way (the professor never allowed either of them to duel anyone else, it would have been a blood bath).

He couldn't know what she was thinking when she grabbed him and hugged him after class.

To Tom's credit, he didn't call her barking, or barmy, or mad. He let her hug him and didn't complain that her wild curls got in his mouth far too often. When the other boys tried to tease him about his 'girlfriend' he just raised a brow as he turned the next page in his book and asked, 'Jealous?'

Hermione was a bit uncomfortable with that term (despite her pint sized body she was not a child), but Tom didn't push it, so she didn't let it bother her...much.

 **HGHGHG**

Christmas came to Hogwarts in a predictable way. Tom tried not to show it, but she could see he was enchanted by the decorations (Hermione was somewhat disappointed personally…the castle had been much cheerier under Dumbledore.)

Some of the other students felt sorry for them because they were staying behind for the holiday, but they were far from displeased. Tom said if he never saw the orphanage again it would be too soon, and Hermione agreed.

She spent her first evening of the holiday under a disillusionment charm in the restricted section, copying books on advanced alchemy. She was determined to get them out of the orphanage as quickly as she could. She might have to use polyjuice and set up another identity, but if they had gold, _something_ could be arranged.

They read and took long walks (and slipped into the Forbidden Forest twice). They also spent time away from one another working on their Christmas gifts.

Hermione had taken one of her remaining silver sickles and transfigured it into a handsome inkwell, and added a nice set of quills she'd made herself from feathers she'd found on the grounds. She had several raven primary feathers, a thestral secondary, some nice examples from eagle owls, and one she was almost certain had come from a phoenix. She also charmed some lovely parchment with the initials TMR. A few charms to make certain the ink never faded or spilled and her gift was done.

She transfigured another bit of parchment into silver wrapping paper and tied a green bow around it.

Christmas morning arrived and they had each had two gifts wrapped and waiting on their beds. Hermione checked the tag on a heavy green parcel and noted her other gift was from Malfoy. They brought the gifts into the common room to open. Hermione saw Tom eye the green package with an expression she couldn't define.

Tom pushed his own silver-wrapped gift toward her. His fingers twitched slightly and she could tell he was a bit nervous.

Inside the box she found a journal and ink charmed so that only the writer could see it.

She hugged him fiercely. "Thank you Tom."

He liked her gift as well. He was almost preternaturally graceful for a child, but he had on occasion, spilled ink. (Hermione was already planning to charm some ball point pens as soon as she could afford a decent set. Who had time for quills?) Hermione had taught him a handy siphoning spell, but it took time and he was always annoyed when he made mistakes. They turned to Malfoy's gifts as one. Tom sighed. "Did you send him a present?"

Hermione shook her head. "I tried to let everyone know that since we're orphans, we wouldn't be doing a lot of gift-giving."

They started unwrapping. He'd obviously sent them books. Tom unwrapped his first: " _Pureblood_ _etiquette for young ladies and gentlemen_. By Gertrude Gurther."

Hermione sighed. Nothing like the finer points of pureblood behavior. Of course, she fully intended to borrow the book from Tom.

That was of course, until she unwrapped her own copy. "Oh dear…do you think we've been unknowingly insulting people's favorite Quidditch team, or implying their mothers are trolls?"

Tom chuckled "Have you seen Crabb…someone in his direct line _is_ a troll. And yes, I suppose we must need the information or Malfoy wouldn't have given us the books."

"How will we ever thank him?" Her voice was very dry.

Tom sighed. "Nothing for it…I supposed he'll demand a firstborn child."

Hermione laughed. "How about we transfigure him some nice plant food instead. Professor Hoppart mentioned he didn't do well in herbology this term. I think some nice fertilizer would be just the thing."

 _ **AN: I think we've established that I have no self control when posting updates. Oh well! Expect the next update Thursday or Friday! (And I really mean it this time!)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN: It's almost Thursday. I can post this, right? (Took a day off from work because of health issues so I had a bit of time to get this ready…as always, anything you recognize belongs to someone else…but the mistakes are mine!) Expect the next update Saturday.**_

Malfoy was surprised at first, then actually gratified by their gift. (Herbology was the one class he was failing, so it was a very practical thing for him, though everyone knew he certainly planned to drop the subject after his fifth year…the heir to the Malfoy fortune didn't like getting his hands dirty.) Hermione did like the irony of sending him fertilizer, but she also liked the useful combination she'd come up with. In her final years of her last lifetime, she'd spent many, many hours with Neville in his gardens. She wasn't particularly gifted with plants, but she had a knack for calculating the proper dosage of food for the species depending on its magical input vs. output.

During the break, Tom helped her find Malfoy's project and they added the right amount to the poor thing when no one was looking. The boy was a genius when it came to slithering around rules that were in his way. Even better than Harry had been. She wondered if it wasn't something in Pervell genes. Tom and Harry didn't look alike…not really. They were shaped differently. Tom was more angular even as a child. But there was something that reminded her of Tom inside Harry, even long after the last horocrux had been destroyed.

Tom caught her looking at him as they sat under a tree with their books one spring afternoon.

He raised a brow. She ducked her head. "I was just thinking."

He smiled. "About me?"

She nodded. "About you, and about my other friend, the one I told you about last year. The two of you are a lot alike. He was an orphan too…and he had a habit of ignoring any rules that got in his way." She smiled softly, and then looked up at Tom, who was frowning. She took his hand. "Harry got caught more than you do." Of course Tom also knew how to charm authority figures whereas Harry had Snape trailing him like a bloodhound. She made a mental note to seek Snape out as a child. He was another lost, abused little boy. She sighed sadly to herself. There were so many.

Tom frowned at her obvious preoccupation, but he put an arm around her anyway. She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek.

"I'm sure you'll find your friends again eventually." He said it, but she could tell he was unhappy with it. She hugged him.

"Perhaps." Would the light send Harry and Ron to this time if Voldemort didn't exist? And could they send Hermione Granger at all? She rather thought they couldn't, not unless she died before the child version of herself was born. She felt a distinct chill. Tom's arm tightened around her again.

She shook her head. It didn't matter. Everything would be played out for either good or ill by that time.

She felt a little spell wrap around her after a whispered word from Tom. She grinned at him. "Cheering charms! Tom that's excellent! We aren't supposed to learn those until third year."

He was always pleased when he learned a spell first, and she'd never used that particular charm. She didn't think he'd like her altering his mood at will. Tom hated being manipulated (despite the fact that he was fairly manipulative).

Still, he was trying to put her in a better mood and she wasn't adverse to the change. "Can you show me the spell?"

Tom's cheeks turned slightly pink, but he did as she asked.

 **HGHGHGHG**

She and Tom finished their first year neck in neck with Hermione taking the top place by 1/10th of a point.

The great hall was swathed in green and silver for the feast, and Malfoy was beaming at the entire hall, nodding graciously to prefects at the other tables. Though he didn't brag like his descendants, Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at his antics.

Tom was morosely picking at his lamb. Hermione leaned over and whispered, "Is it just me, or does Malfoy remind you of pageant queen?"

Tom sputtered and half-glared at her. She caught his eye and shot a significant look at Malfoy who was all but waving to the rest of the room.

Tom rolled his eyes but some of the depression he'd been holding back seemed to lift slightly.

She'd noticed his preoccupation since the first day of testing. He'd alternately take huge portions of his favorite foods and pick at his meals. At first she'd been worried that he was getting sick, but she quickly realized what the problem was.

She quickly wrote a note and slipped it into a plain brown bag. She whispered, "Come with me, I have a surprise for you."

Tom's eyebrows went up and he shot a regretful look at his plate, but he didn't hesitate.

Hermione pulled him along into an empty classroom. She wondered idly when the wizarding world had used so much space.

She didn't let it distract her though.

She pulled out a small bag and grinned at Tom. He lifted his brows, not questioning that something interesting was going to happen. He knew her after all.

"I know you've been wondering where I was while we were supposed to be studying, but I wanted this to be a surprise. I knew you were worried about going back to the orphanage, especially with war brewing and the shortages in food." Of course he was. Tom wasn't stupid. He knew that food shortages would affect the orphanage first. Like Harry, it was obvious there had been hungry times in Tom's past.

She reached into the bag and pulled out the remainder of Tom's dinner.

"How?"

"Well, you can't conjure food you know."

Tom nodded. It was one of the first things he'd tried to do with his wand.

Hermione grinned like an idiot. "I just made a few trades. The house elves that run the kitchen were happy to send us food all summer in exchange for some of that fertilizer we created during the holiday."

"House elves?"

"Clever little folk who do the cleaning and the cooking here at Hogwarts and in some estates and things. They are bound to wizarding families or in this case, Hogwarts. They grow a lot of the food we use at the castle and were pleased with the results of our experiment. I managed to charm two bags. I slip a message into my side and the elves get it and slip what I asked for into the other bag and it appears here. It should work all the way in London without an issue I think."

Tom's mouth was open. "That's brilliant."

She nudged him playfully. "Well, now we won't have to worry about starving over the break, and the bag is charmed so we won't need our wands to use it. We don't want to get into trouble for underage magic back at the orphanage. We can focus on studying. Madam Pince has decided that we will be allowed to take books home over the summer."

Tom's eyes bugged. Food was one thing. Getting books out of Pince was near-miraculous. "You are joking."

She smiled. "Nope." She made the 'p' pop a bit. "That was the other thing I was busy with. I helped her sort the entire charms section and add the new volumes."

They'd had a nice long discussion about the treatment of leather and Hermione had won points with a simple but effective spell that reduced cracking in ancient books. The librarian had been so impressed she'd decided that this once, she could allow her favorite student to take volumes home over the summer.

Tom was looking at her with open awe. "We can spend the entire summer in our rooms."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure we'll have to do some chores for Mrs. Cole as well, but yes. No starving and lots of studying. Sounds just about perfect, right?"

Tom just sighed happily. She petted his head, happy that he didn't have to fend for himself for once. No child should have to do that.

 **HGHGHG**

To Hermione's surprise, she and Tom were herded into Malfoy's carriage for the trip home, along with Gregorio Zambini (a seventh year), Dorea Black (whose familiar cheekbones reminded Hermione too much of Harry to be coincidence) and a pinch-faced boy in second year, Copernicus Rosier.

Odin Nott came in shortly afterward. Malfoy passed around a sumptuous basket of 'nibbles' little sandwiches and bottles of butterbeer, canapés with quail or pate'.

"I just wanted to celebrate with the Slytherins most responsible for our first win in the house cup in over ten years." Malfoy was bubbling like a bottle of champagne someone had shaken. Tiny truffles and crème brulle followed the meal and Hermione found herself feeling a bit relaxed and sleepy after the unusual fare.

She shook off the feeling immediately, and cast a quick diagnostic spell. There were no potions or hexes at work, but she cursed her own naiveté. She should have checked before eating random food on the train! She couldn't afford to be that sloppy. Tom had felt her wandless, non-verbal magic and lifted a brow. She took his hand and sighed. "It's fine, I'm just tired."

Malfoy (who hadn't noticed a thing) grinned at his housemates. "I am not surprised! If you like, you can put your head in Tom's lap and your feet in mine and take a bit of a nap." Did he know how creepy he was, or was it just her?

Tom pulled her close. "Or you could just lean on my shoulder. I don't mind."

Malfoy smirked at Tom's possessiveness, but Hermione thought it was awfully sweet. Tom had grown over the year, both literally and figuratively.

"There will be very little to do over the summer. I'd rather be awake for the next few hours…before we have to go back."

Malfoy frowned. "Muggle orphanage. Seems a bit medieval."

Tom shrugged. "More evil than medieval, but we'll survive."

Odin frowned as well. "You're going to be out among muggles without your wands?"

Hermione patted the lanky boy on the hand. "Don't worry. We've done this before. Muggles aren't…"

Tom snorted.

She rolled her eyes. "Muggles are a lot like witches and wizards. There are good muggles and bad muggles."

Tom grumbled. "Mostly bad."

She bumped Tom's shoulder. "Don't judge the world by what you've seen at Wool's. That place is horrendous."

Tom nodded, but not like he believed her. She took his hand.

"We'll have such fun this summer. I have a very strict study schedule planned out…"

Tom laughed and buried his nose in her hair, then pulled her close. Last year at this time he'd barely tolerated her occasional hug. Now he held her like a teddy bear. Unfortunately it was for many of the same reasons. She kissed his cheek and detangled herself. The others were watching and Malfoy had a curious expression on his face. Doreta also had an odd expression.

"So the two of you live together?" The witch was a bit incredulous. Tom eyed her in an unfriendly manner.

"We live at the same orphanage. It's where we met." Hermione tried to explain but the other girl still looked outraged.

Malfoy gave the girl a look that clearly indicated she should shut up about it. Hermione never thought that Draco Malfoy's grandfather would defend her from Harry's grandmother.

Malfoy Took Hermione's other hand and patted it lightly. "Miss Granger and Mr. Riddle have grown up in circumstances that are far from optimal. It is no wonder they cling to one another like siblings."

Tom had a coughing fit at that comment and Hermione helpfully offered to fetch him a glass of water. He glared at everyone in the carriage and walked off.

Malfoy gave Hermione a look. "I could have done water charm."

She shook her head. "Give him a moment." She turned to Doreta. "I'm not entirely sure what your issue is. Whatever you are imagining, judging by your reaction, is false."

"It's all over the common room that he's your boyfriend."

She raised her brow. "We're eleven. He's…the most important person in my life. People will label it whatever they like. But don't try to make him feel bad about it, or fifth year or not, I'll hex you into next week."

Malfoy laughed delightedly. "Dorrie, leave the girl alone. Her innocent adoration of Mr. Riddle is nothing to get up in arms about surely?"

"They're a bad influence on the rest of the children, always touching. It's positively Muggle."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Doreta huffed off to join her normal carriage of fifth and sixth year girls. Tom returned shortly after.

Malfoy batted his eyelashes at Tom. "Better?"

Tom slipped into the seat on the other side of Hermione. "Fine."

Hermione sighed and opened a new book. Boys.


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN: As promised, a new update for you!**_

"Bever!" The eldest boy in the orphanage taunted her from a safe distance with a gaggle of other boys… _what was his name again?_

Hermione wished that she'd taken the time last term to shrink her teeth. It wasn't that the teasing bothered her, but it was beginning to interrupt her studies. And it made Tom look frankly murderous…which wasn't a good thing.

She turned a page. "Ignore them."

"They don't deserve your kindness."

She smiled up at him. "No. But they don't deserve to be hung in the air by one ankle either."

Tom flung himself down on the grass and looked at her admiringly. "I don't know that spell." She kissed his cheek. "I'll teach you when we get back to school, right after I shrink my teeth."

Tom shot a dark look at the boys who were now chasing some poor cat. "Don't change because of them."

She shrugged. "I'm not. I meant to do it last year, but I got distracted. It's no different than a haircut, not in the magical world."

Tom leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was completely chaste, just a brush of lips, but her eyes went wide. "You are perfect the way you are."

She was so shocked she didn't answer and didn't even follow him when he ambled off in the direction of the boys who had been teasing her.

Well this was a fine kettle of fish. She'd be twelve in a couple of months and she'd already had her first kiss…Molly would no doubt label her some sort of scarlet woman for that! Well…if Molly was alive yet, which she wasn't.

Tom returned but didn't mention what he'd done or said to the boys. Hermione looked up at him. His cheekbones had the slightest hint of pink. "Tom?"

He was plucking at the grass and he didn't look at her. "hhmmmm?"

She kissed his cheek again. "Don't kiss me on the lips at Hogwarts. I don't think people would understand."

His lips turned up. "How about I just don't get caught?"

She ran her fingers through his silky hair, but she didn't say anything. Was this a trap? It felt innocent; but Minerva had said to beware seduction. Of course, Tom wasn't seducing her really…she thought his actions might be three parts "how adults acted" and two parts trying to keep her from being upset about the other children teasing her.

She sighed as he watched her. He was doing his best to give her a blank face, which meant he was anxious. He didn't bother with blank face around her much anymore.

She nodded and put her head on his shoulder.

 **HGHGHG**

Things changed after the kiss and she felt unaccountably sad. She and Tom bribed two of the other children to switch rooms so that they could have rooms close to one another, but they didn't sleep in the same bed anymore. Hermione missed him, but she knew it was part of growing up. Adolescents needed their own space after all.

But knowing that didn't mean she missed him less.

She also kept close watch on the other children that summer, checking for signs of neglect or abuse. She decided that she had been correct. The concerted attack on the school had slacked off during the months they'd been gone. The entire neighborhood had a healthier feel.

Poor Tom. He'd endured this darkness his entire life.

They made a dozen trips into Diagon Alley to sit and read at the bookstore. It was also a fine way to fool the trace since the magic of so many wizards masked Hermione's small spells. She didn't dare do anything major, but she and Tom did use magic to conjure and transfigure things they'd need while at the orphanage.

Hermione spent quite a bit of time researching her new project: The philosopher's stone was so far out of the ability of the normal witch or wizard that the books on it were covered with dust, even in the thriving bookshop.

Hermione also began quietly corresponding with the famous alchemist Nicholas Flamel. He was well known for his willingness to mentor enterprising witches and wizards.

 _Dear Mr. Flamel._

 _My name is Hermione Granger and at the beginning of next term I will be a second year student at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I was fascinated when I read about your work in the field of alchemy. I'm setting up an old shed so I will have a place to study._

 _If you have a moment, could you offer any advice to a would-be alchemy student?_

 _Most Sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Interestingly enough, she received a return letter with sound advice for a beginner, and a list of must-haves for alchemy research along with some handy ideas for turning a garden shed into an amateur laboratory. Hermione (of course) had a few questions, and Nicholas was happy to clarify. Within a couple of weeks they were corresponding daily.

He was shocked when she sent him the first fruits of her labors: coal dust that she'd turned into stone. It wasn't a large change; she might have done the same with her wand. But this magic was done with a chemical process and was a bit trickier.

She was quite pleased with her progress until Dumbledore dropped by one afternoon.

She and Tom were just putting away a failed experiment when he entered the shed.

He cocked an eyebrow and she sighed.

"I forgot he was your alchemy partner."

Dumbledore tried to keep a straight face but he couldn't seem to help himself. "Indeed. And what do you mean by this? The magic is very advanced, and if you harm yourselves it would be difficult to get Ministry officials here without Muggles noticing."

Hermione shrugged. "We just set up a place to study."

"Your Muggle repelling charms are quite nice, by the way. I've never seen anything quite like them."

Hermione blushed. She'd invented those during that awful year on the run. Tom pulled her closer. She let him, but she held Dumbledore's eye.

"We have to find a way to get out of here. I am going to do whatever I have to so that Tom and I don't have to come back to this place."

"You're breaking several dozen school rules and at least that many laws."

"Those laws are ridiculous. Some grown wizards are incompetent in almost every subject and some children are quite adept. And yet, after a certain age, if they pass a standardized test, the wizard that scrapes an A on an OWL would be able to se up a shed exactly like this one and blow himself up with impunity. Whereas we are taking all available safety measures and I flatter myself to think that I could probably manage an E on my OWLS in several subjects right now." She felt her hair start to move slightly because of the waves of magic coming off of her skin. She sighed and calmed herself. "By hobbling us this way, refusing to let us use the only talents we have that we could use to make a living, the Ministry is sentencing us to live outside the magical community in a sometimes dangerous and more often disadvantaged environment."

"I suppose your research is in pursuit of the Philosopher's stone?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course. Though I don't expect to achieve it this year or even next. We're simply laying the groundwork."

"Which is still breaking the rules."

"Which are unenforceable because neither alchemy nor potion-making set off the trace. The magic they use is too subtle."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "I really must see if I can find this Minerva you spoke of. She seems like a most interesting witch."

She felt him prod her mind and Hermione supplied an image of Minerva dueling. "If you find her, let me know."

"She looks a bit like the Ross family…"

The man was bloody brilliant. Minerva had indeed come from the Ross family. If Hermione remembered correctly, Minerva herself would be coming to Hogwarts soon. Dumbledore might notice…but if he did, she was going to tell him the whole thing and be done with it. He'd likely toss her into St. Mungo's. But she was tired of trying to get around her own bloody side's mechanisms.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You understand, that as your professor, I would be morally required to inform the ministry if you continue to practice magic here where you could be spotted by Muggles." He twinkled at her. "I suppose though, if you wish, I could use a couple of helpers in my own lab this summer. If you wish to study alchemy, you may whilst I continue my own studies into the various properties inherent in dragon's blood. I'll allow you both lab space in the evenings for your own studies as well as a guiding hand."

The professor was quite unprepared when Hermione practically tackled him. Even Tom's eyes were shining.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

It took only a few well-placed words from Dumbledore to gain permission from Mrs. Cole for the children to visit his home 'nearby'. On one hand, Hermione was quite glad that it wasn't a huge trial to get permission…on the other…the matron seemed a bit lax when it came to the children's safety.

They agreed to meet their professor in the garden shed at eight am sharp each morning. The first day, Hermione and Tom were there and ready at seven thirty. Dumbledore was quite amused when he arrived at seven forty-five. "It is nice to have students who are so keen after spending my school year dealing with children who are…less than thrilled to be getting a magical education."

Hermione watched Tom's face and sure enough, a slight sneer appeared. He had no tolerance for those who didn't appreciate the magical world.

He held out a hand. "We're going to try something called slide-along-apparition. I hope this method of travel will work. Otherwise I'll have to get creative." Hermione tried not to think of the alternatives. There were so many gut-wrenching uncomfortable modes of travel in the wizarding world. Everything from the knight bus to threstals came to mind. She admitted, "I do not like flying."

Dumbledore raised his brows (it was a rather uncommon issue in the wizarding world where people had wands and might very well bounce when they landed even if they didn't). "Well, take my hand and let us see if we can make a slide-along work. The only easier option would be a floo and I don't imagine the ministry would want to add a muggle orphanage to the network."

Hermione turned to Tom. "It's going to feel weird. It might make you a little dizzy at first."

He reached up and took her other hand so they were standing in a circle. Dumbledore gave them a nod and with a quiet pop they were gone.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

If Tom felt ill afterward, he hid it well. Hermione felt a bit green herself, but she'd known what was coming. Dumbledore watched, but didn't ask. That was good because Hermione couldn't really explain why a girl from a muggle home would be as well versed as she appeared to be.

Hermione recognized the village as soon as she saw it. Godric's Hollow. She was shocked that he would willingly spend his summers in the place. He led them along the path to a neat little cottage. "I recently moved here. Or rather, moved back. My brother and I are not on decent terms generally, so finding a buyer for the cottage has become problematic. During our adult lives we've taken turns keeping the old place up…he rather more than I if I have to be honest. He's been in a morose mood the past few years."

From what she knew of the relationship between the brothers, she was shocked they hadn't burned the cottage down. Too much guilt for either of them to do so she supposed. Still, the rooms were well-lit and sunny, even if there were knitted dollies everywhere. She raised a brow.

"So this is what you do with all those knitting patterns."

The professor was shocked into a laugh, eyes twinkling merrily. "Indeed. I do need to make a few points clear for safety. My experiments at this moment are fairly benign, but they are often quite combustible. I have picked out a few age-appropriate texts on alchemy. I'm certain you've read some of them, but please, go over them again. I would like both of you to take a short break with me three times a day. We'll go for a walk around the village and perhaps discuss any questions you have. Too much study is not good for young bodies."

Hermione sighed but nodded. Dumbledore had to pull her away from _Rune Work and Alchemists_ around ten o'clock. She was anxious to get back to it and so their walk was more brisk than either of the gentlemen would have liked. Tom was devouring _Alchemy through the Ages_ , but he was better with people than she was.

Their professor couldn't fault their work ethic. They each finished a book that day, and asked for another to take home. He refused to allow them to take the books. "Not because I don't trust that you know how to care for them, but because you'll need to rest your eyes. Hard work is all well and good, but don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up. Childhood only comes once."

Hermione let out a strangled, slightly hysterical laugh at that comment, but she waved away questions and wouldn't meet their eyes until she had her mind under control. She'd found that if she concentrated very hard on a single scene…the blue sky, or a windswept meadow, she could perform a type of occlumency that didn't really look like occlumency.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN: I've given you all that I've pre-written, so the updates will slow a bit. I will try to post twice a week starting now, but I won't tie myself to a specific date…anyway, here is the next bit, hope you enjoy!**_

Hermione threw herself into her new obsession whole heartedly. In fact it took several weeks for her to realize that Tom was feeling left out by her short, intense discussions with Dumbledore and the way she went back into her books immediately afterward.

She looked up one evening while she was sipping the awful stew at dinner, about to make a comment…and he wasn't there.

She rushed around the orphanage, around the grounds, checked the shed…

She finally found him up in a tree with a snake twined around his fingers.

"Tom!" He looked down coldly until he noticed her pink cheeks and wild hair.

"Are you hurt?" There was that note of command in his voice…the one he'd used in the pensive memory Dumbledore had given Harry in her original timeline. She frowned. "I was just worried. I looked up and you weren't there. I thought we were studying together."

He snorted as the little snake danced around his fingers. "You don't study with people Hermione. You're in your own little world with just you and the books and whatever thoughts are hiding in that wild hair." The venom in his voice brought tears to her eyes.

She whispered, "You don't want to find the philosopher's stone?" An errant tear tried to trickle down her cheek but she pushed it away.

"I just don't see any reason to follow you around like your faithful hound."

The phrase wasn't his own…it must have been the group of boys…the ones that teased all the children.

"You are my friend. While we're here at the orphanage, I just want you close so I know you are safe."

He spat, "I'm the better duelist of the two of us."

She sighed. "I think you really are. But that doesn't mean anything to the part of my mind that tries to panic when I look up and don't know where you are."

He whispered something to the snake and it crawled out of his hand and back into the tree where he'd presumably found it. Then he jumped down. "You can't ignore me all day and then panic when you look up and figure out I've found better things to do. And you have ink on your nose." He walked away, head high.

She sat down at the roots of the tree as the sun set.

The little snake hissed at her as it came down the trunk and Hermione gave it a wide berth. She didn't think it was poisonous, but you never knew…Tom _would_ attract whichever snake was most dangerous in an area.

She finally dusted herself off as the stars began to twinkle. Mrs. Cole caught her as she returned and chivvied her toward her 'chores'…apparently she'd forgotten them for days. How long had it been?

She was weary when she finished for the night. Tom was reading on his bed as she passed, but she didn't speak and neither did he.

He joined her after breakfast the next day in the shed as they waited to leave. Dumbledore noticed the chill between them. He didn't mention it though. She suspected he was at an important point in his research, but he didn't make a habit of discussing groundbreaking research with children. Pity.

She picked up the next book in the stack, but didn't open it. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Tom looked up unwillingly. He _did_ notice that she had a brand new book in her lap that she wasn't opening…a feat of self-restraint was unusual in and of itself.

"I didn't mean to ignore you. I don't even know how many days I did it. I forget to do everything that's not automatic when I'm wrapped up in a project. I just haven't been like this…for a long while."

"Being my friend isn't automatic?"

She grimaced. "Not the talking part. Except when I have a good idea. Then I won't shut up…"

Tom laughed…a startled, uninhibited sound that she'd never heard from him.

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. She felt slightly better…he was her only real friend after all.

She put her hand on his cheek and leaned over to kiss it. "Don't let me get distracted from what's important again."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes as she opened the book. "I mean, finding the philosopher's stone wouldn't be worth much if I lost you in the process."

"Eternal life and all the gold you could want wouldn't be worth much?"

She shook her head. "Nope." She made the popping 'p' sound because it always made him smile when she did it.

His cheeks went red as he opened his book. "Stop lollygagging then. We have an impossible task to overcome and it's nearly time for our walk."

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

The summer flew by, but Hermione barely noticed. Malfoy kept sending his owl with invitations to his home for 'little get togethers'. Hermione always answered them with the excuse that they weren't allowed to leave the orphanage unaccompanied by an adult from the school. After the third time she wrote him, he seemed to get the idea and wrote one last note.

" _Very well, if you are certain you cannot attend this summer, I insist that you and young Tom come to my home for the Christmas Holiday. My mother will arrange the visit with Dippet. I know this will be acceptable because Professor Slughorn will also be in attendance."_

Hermione said a word that would have horrified her mother, but Tom echoed it.

"He doesn't give up."

She sighed. "I know. And we'll surely need dress robes and gifts if we go to that party." She folded the invitation neatly. "But we don't have a choice now that he's involved the adults."

Tom was clearly unhappy. "Oh well, I suppose we'll just have to transfigure our everyday robes into something like wizard's dress robes. How hard could it be?"

 **HGHGHG**

It was harder than it looked. Hermione was well able to mend a rip or change the color of her robes, but remaking them into beautiful, stylish dress robes wasn't something she could do without lots of research…time she certainly didn't want to spend while she had Dumbledore's lab to play in and with a pen pal like Flamel.

"Any chance we can find some 'classic' robes second hand? "

Tom gave her a look that said she was clearly insane. "Not any from this century."

"I don't have a problem with that to be perfectly honest."

They went to every shop in Diagon Alley (she had to physically restrain Tom from checking out Knockturn when he saw it). "There won't be any robes down there."

He was quite drawn to the place and she sighed. "I've heard it's dodgy. I don't want to go down there and figure out if there are wizards with the same _tastes_ as those Muggles that were taking kids from the orphanage. At least not until I know quite a few more spells and have a better way to hide from the trace."

Tom stopped and looked at her. "You've used that term before."

She realized she'd never explained about the trace exactly. "The Ministry, in its' infantile wisdom, places a monitoring charm on students when we go to Hogwarts. It's supposed to detect the presence of underage magic among Muggles. I'm not certain, but I think that it is automatically rendered ineffective during the school year. I do know for a fact that in places like Hogsmead and Diagon Alley that the number of magic uses confuses the trace to the point where it is rendered totally useless. If a non-wizard used magic at the orphanage, they would probably send one or both of us a warning letter…" She felt her lips quirk. "Say if a house elf used a hover charm or some such thing…"

Tom snorted at the likelihood of a house elf being at the grim orphanage. "I think that the trigger for the trace might very well be at Hogwarts, but I can't be sure. It's very unfair because the Ministry assumes that any magic done at a wizarding residence is caused by an adult. Whereas a Muggleborn automatically gets a letter threatening to expel them. I hate double standards." She said the last bit to herself and Tom nodded.

Tom looked down the dodgy alley once more and sighed. "So you think we're safe enough here in Diagon Alley but you don't know about Knockturn…"

"And there's also a charm to check to see what spells have been used by a wand. We don't want to get caught using anything at all, but especially something we shouldn't."

Tom nodded. Then he gave her a sly look. "You know…for someone who is such a teacher's pet, you know more about rule breaking than anyone I've ever met."

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

Dumbledore finished his experiments the week before term. Hermione asked him if he planned to publish his notes during the school year. The wizard nodded. "I think I've found everything there is to find, finally."

Hermione sighed happily. Another bit of knowledge she wouldn't have to remember to hide. "Is there any chance I could read your papers. I found one you published in…"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Of course you can. Come to my office once you get settled and both you and your young knight can peruse to your heart's content."

"Thank you!"

Dumbledore laughed. "Well, it's not every year we have such keen students. Professor Slughorn is considering lowering the age of the Slug Club in order to include the two of you sooner, but I argued against it."

Tom frowned. "That…gathering Malfoy is always going on about?"

"Horace is something of a collector of interesting and unusual people. Your young Mr. Malfoy is cut from the same cloth I believe."

Tom glared at the insinuation that Malfoy was Hermione's. Dumbledore saw that as well, but he didn't make a comment. He simply changed the subject.

"Both of you are ready for your next term?" They nodded. Dumbledore seemed to understand that they were not 'normal' children. Still, it surprised Hermione that he hadn't bothered to accompany them on their shopping trip this year. There were dark circles under the older wizard's eyes and he'd been pushing himself this summer…

"Things are getting worse on the continent aren't they?"

Dumbledore's head shot up. Then he seemed to remember her 'past' with a dark wizard. He sighed. "Yes. Grindelwald has just revealed a new prison…one he intends to send enemies of the state to. He's quietly sending out inquiries all over Europe and even here in Great Brittan. He finally feels secure in his home country and now he's doing what I always feared…the Prussian ministry had already allied with him and the French are resisting, but quietly. The Dutch and the Portuguese are against him, but only because he's foreign, not because of what he stands for."

Tom growled. "He wants to rid the world of Muggleborns."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That's not exactly true. He is not completely opposed to Muggleborns, particularly when they are powerful. Some of his most ardent supporters _are_ pure-blood fanatics. He wants to rule over the muggles. He and his ilk think that mastery over them is the natural order."

Hermione huffed. "Might makes right."

Dumbledore nodded.

She patted his hand. "How long has he been watching you?"

The wizard cocked his head in surprise. "How long have you suspected that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Since the orange tuxedo. It was such an odd choice. It was obviously meant to draw attention toward yourself. Like a muggle magician's sleight of hand. You didn't want him to see us."

Dumbledore nodded. "We shall have to hope that Grindelwald's agents are less perceptive than an eleven year old girl then. Otherwise that rather extreme fashion choice was all for naught."

Hermione's lips quirked. "Well, the color did look fabulous with your hair."


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: The words were flowing, so we get another little update! I shall try to post again this weekend. Yes…I know that's a long time, but real life interferes with my time and that whole eating/paying bills thing has to come first…unfortunately.**_

Their return to Hogwarts felt triumphant. She and Tom relished using levitation spells to neatly put their trucks away. They shared a look, reveling in their use of magic after the long drought of the summer. That was one of the amazing things about Tom, something Dumbledore had never mentioned about him in her original timeline. Magic never failed to thrill him. In some ways, he was a pure scholar by nature. There was joy in him every time he raised his wand. Nothing could steal that from him.

She gave him a one-armed hug which he accepted with a raised brow.

"I always wonder what's going on under that bushy hair of yours when you do that."

"Do what?"

"You'll be thinking, your face all grim…and then you reach for me."

She shrugged. "I was thinking about the joy you have when you do magic."

"That's not all you were thinking of."

She looked down. "No, but the rest of my thoughts don't bear repeating." She felt his magic reach for her, questioning. She cupped his face with her hand. He'd grown again. Her hand felt small against his smooth cheek. "I was thinking about darker places and other times. But I'm not there anymore. I'm here, with you."

He put his hand over hers' and pulled it to his chest. "I know people hurt you before. I can tell by the way you flinch sometimes at odd things. I won't let that happen anymore. I'm going to be so strong that no one and nothing can ever hurt us."

"We're both going to be strong Tom. Strong enough to be able to show mercy and kindness. That's a test of real strength, because if you are weak you can't afford to let people see you show mercy. I want to be strong enough to do that. Strong enough to be who I am without letting what other people think matter."

She surprised herself a bit with that speech. It was a mixture of her older self and her younger. When she'd been twelve the first time around she'd cared desperately what people said and thought of her. Draco Malfoy's cuts had hurt more than she'd ever admitted. She didn't let those things keep her from doing what was right most of the time, but it didn't mean they weren't there, like old scar tissue under the skin.

She looked up at Tom, who was busy digesting what she'd told him. He seemed to be seriously considering what she'd said.

"You'd have to be very powerful to be able to show mercy without being thought weak by most of these people."

She nodded. "Very. In every way."

"How many ways are there to be powerful?"

She shrugged. "I'm not really sure. There is temporal power, spiritual power, magical power, the power of kindness, the power of love…"

"Love? Love doesn't look like power. Love looks weak. If you love someone, losing them will hurt you. Other people that you care about are nothing but potential hostages."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Some of the oldest magics are based in love. Magic that cannot be broken by any other power. Protective spells that are immune to even the killing curse."

"No one has ever survived the killing curse."

She frowned. "You need to be careful when reading dark texts Tom."

"One of the seventh years mentioned it."

"While you were harmlessly eavesdropping." Her eyes sparkled with real affection for him and he let the slightly defensive tone in his voice drop.

"I might have been a bit."

She sobered. "They don't tell you how dark magic harms the soul."

Tom snorted. "A soul? Like the parson talks about at Church?"

The monthly trip to the local rectory had not left Tom with a favorable impression. Or Hermione for that matter. The dozing-in-a-pew orthodoxy of it was as appealing as a stagnate pool of murky water.

"Again, you are letting what you've seen color your view. And you've seen a lot more of the bad than most people do." She led him to a carriage and sat close enough so that their legs touched. He wrapped an arm around her automatically. They sat this way a lot now. She could feel his need for human contact. He hadn't been touched much in his young life. He had tolerated her touch at first, out of a yearning to learn the magic she showed him, and then because she was his first and best ally. Now she thought that he craved it a bit. He liked knowing she was close. He still didn't touch other people more than was strictly necessary to be socially acceptable. Ah well…baby steps.

She tried to explain. "You've seen proof that the soul exists with your own eyes. The ghosts at Hogwarts prove that such a thing exists. There is something after our bodies are gone."

"So Hogwarts is some sort of purgatory?"

She rolled her eyes and pretended to punch his arm. "I don't know about heaven or hell. I do know that we have a soul and that dark magic harms it." She sighed as the trolley went past and her eyes were drawn to the pile of sweets. She decided to save the few sickles she had for Christmas so there would be no licorice wands today. She was a big girl. She could deal with the slight longing for a sweet.

She saw Tom's eyes dart to it and he resigned himself as well. It made her furious. At best, he'd been provided with the minimal supplies he needed and gifted with an education. Hermione was grateful to be at Hogwarts, she truly was. But it was a stark existence even with all her clever ideas to make it more bearable. She didn't mind so much for herself, but Tom…didn't he deserve more joy and beauty in his life?

She was brought out of her dark thoughts by Tom himself. "The elves sent us cake."

Two tiny plates with exquisite little cakes and small silver forks were poking out of the brown bag.

Hermione felt tear prick her eyes. "Oh, the little dears. Aren't they lovely Tom? Which do you want?"

Tom picked one at random and she took the other. She wrote a thank you note on a bit of parchment and stuck it into the bag. Tom smirked and shook his head.

"I've never seen anyone write thank you as often as you have this summer."

She shrugged. "They were quite kind to agree to this. Honestly, I hope the fertilizer was enough to cover it. I didn't mean for them to send a bloody rack of lamb every time we mentioned we were peckish."

Tom didn't look even a little bit chagrined. "If you feel badly about it, we'll figure out another way to help them over the winter."

"You just want to make sure they will cook for us next summer."

Tom smirked. Merlin. She knew he was gorgeous of course, but sometimes he made her breath stop when the light caught his face just right. She closed her eyes. When she opened them he was right in front of her, smirk still in place.

"I like that you think I'm beautiful."

She frowned at him. "Tom! Stay out of my head."

He tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "I do like it though. That I steal your breath away. I think you are the prettiest girl in our year too you know."

She snorted. "I am not unaware of how I look Tom." Skinny little beaver with a bushy head of hair…she knew what she was.

His eyes darkened. "I've told you before, don't let other people color the way you see yourself. All that should matter is what you think and what the people who care for you think. And I say you are the prettiest girl in the year." His tone was entirely imperious. She chuckled but he caught her face and brushed her lips again, kissing her harder than before.

"I would like to know who made you think you aren't. Who made you feel like you are less?"

She felt tears come to her eyes. Bother! Stupid hormones. She'd wanted to hear those words when she was this age, when it would have mattered. And she had heard them in a way. Harry and Ron had praised her mind…

But she was more than just a brain with legs to move it around. She took Tom's hand and for the first time, she kissed his lips, chastely. "Thank you."

"I mean it Hermione. I want names." His face was priceless. He was smug about the kiss, happy that she'd initiated it, and murderous that someone had made her feel bad.

"They aren't alive." Yet.

His eyes widened. Then he nodded. "Good."

She shook her head. "Don't be daft. I didn't kill them."

"As long as they can't hurt you anymore, I don't really care."

"Even if they were alive they couldn't hurt me Tom. Not when I have your affection to protect me. Why should I care why they think?"

He grinned, and it wasn't the one he pulled out for professors. It was a wild, manic thing that wasn't pretty at all. His joy was fierce. He bent to kiss her, but the carriage door opened.

"I finally found the two of you!" The blond bane of her existence swept into the seat across from them.

"Summer is over, finally! I've been named Quidditch captain this year. Tom, I'm going to need for you to try out as chaser, or perhaps seeker…"

"Quidditch supplies aren't covered by the stipend…"

"I can bloody well get you a broom. I can't take the Lions beating us again this year!"

Abraxas turned to Hermione. "And as for you…"

She held up her hand. "Not a chance. I refuse to be involved with any game that's played off the ground."

"How can you call yourself a witch!"

She had her wand at his neck before he finished the sentence. She smirked at catching him unaware. "Want to find out if I learned any interesting new hexes over the summer?"

He moved the point of her wand slowly. "With those reflexes you'd make an excellent seeker."

"Would not. And the fact remains that I do _not_ like heights."

"I'm not certain I want to play if Hermione isn't…"

Malfoy turned to Tom. "Nonsense! I need my best Slytherins on the pitch!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tom, if you'd like to play, don't let me stop you. I'll come and cheer if you'd like."

"You see? Nothing better than a good game of Quidditch to impress the pretty witch."

Tom snorted. "She's only impressed with spellwork. Why do you think I study so hard?"

Hermione laughed, though she knew it wasn't true. Tom obviously studied to be the best in any timeline he was part of. It seemed to be one of the essential bits of his make-up.

Malfoy looked at Tom with a mixture of amazement and incredulity. "Ah-ha! I knew it! I knew it was about the girl. What else could it be?"

Hermione caught Tom's eye and rolled hers'. Malfoy was nattering on about everything under the sun while herding them toward 'his' carriage.

Hermione nodded to the group he'd assembled. It was quite funny. Lucius Malfoy had been so arrogant. Abraxas was a different kettle of fish entirely. Less arrogance and more networking. She wondered, as she took a scone he offered, which was more dangerous.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

The sorting ceremony was considerably less interesting when one wasn't a part of it. Hermione was reading under the table when the hat called out. "McGonagall, Minerva." Her head came up automatically, like a hound catching a scent. She didn't have to turn to know that Tom had noticed, and Dumbledore certainly had. The hat debated on top of the little raven-haired witch's head for some time (over five minutes). Malfoy rumbled in her ear. "I'll put a galleon on Ravenclaw. She's a half-blood or it would be Slytherin."

That last comment did it. Hermione grinned. "I'll take that bet. But I expect Gryffindor."

Malfoy snorted inelegantly. "I hate to take gold from an orphan."

Hermione chuckled as the hat called out. "Gryffindor."

She held out her hand as Malfoy tossed her the coin. "And how did you know that my little serpent child?"

She just gave him a Mona Lisa smile. "Odds were 1 to 4 Malfoy. 1 to 3 really…she'd never be a 'puff. I just picked the one that would annoy you most. You know her mother was a flyer."

"Oh?"

"Captain of the Gryffindor team, second generation, if I remember right."

His eyes narrowed and she realized she'd slipped up…again. She was just so excited to get Minerva back…even if she wasn't really the same just yet.

Malfoy's eyes promised a myriad of questions and Tom's hand caught hers'.

Her friend had questions of his own.

They walked back to the common room and she checked her things. The house elves had fixed the heel of one of her boots. She put a thank you note near the pile of wood where they would find it when they brought more. She'd been meaning to fix them. The castle was very cold in winter and the dungeons were coldest of all.

Tom was at Malfoy's right hand when she came out of the girl's dorm.

"So, you know the Ross family from Scotland?"

She shrugged. "I know of them. I'm looking forward to the new one. It would have been nice to have her here, but I doubted she'd give up the tie to her mother."

Hazel McCormack, a third year spoke up. "The girl's mother is a blood traitor. She gave up her magic entirely when she married that Muggle of hers'."

Hermione nodded. "I would have too. The last witch burning in Scotland is less than a hundred years ago. I wouldn't want to do anything to draw attention to myself if I decided to live among them."

Tom caught her hand. "But we won't."

She looked in his eyes, and saw the slight fear in them.

"No. We have to live there for now, but there's no reason to be away from the wizarding world once we graduate. I wouldn't mind living somewhere like Godric's Hollow, where there are a number of wizarding families, but I'd rather live somewhere where we didn't have to be careful about using magic."

Malfoy scrunched his nose. "I'm not sure which would be worse Hermione! Muggles, or all those Gryffindors!"


	9. Chapter 9

_**AN: I don't know when I'll be posting updates. I will still try to make it 2-3 times a week, but I may post two on the weekend and who knows what during the week…my job has gotten entirely too hectic. It's eating into my writing time! Grrrrrr.**_

Hermione let Tom take an early lead on their informal competition for top spot in their class so that she'd have more time to study other things, particularly alchemy. She was having a certain amount of trouble trying to focus on the papers she had to write for the simple concepts. It was all just a bit boring and though she could force herself to focus, it was work to do it. The only reason she put that much effort into it at all was that she didn't want to be a bad influence on Tom. He enjoyed the competition. He was probably bored senseless the first time around without her.

She continued her relationship with Flamel, though she didn't trust him entirely since he'd tattled on her to Dumbledore. If she was being honest, she had to admit it was what she herself might have done, so she didn't get angry at the elderly wizard. But that didn't mean she trusted him.

The odious Professor Green had left Hogwarts (the word around the Slytherin common room was that she had married a Lestrange; Hermione had a funny feeling she had met Bellatrix's mother-in -law). The new Charms teacher was a very familiar little man.

"Professor Finius Flitwick, very much at your service." The mixed class of second years stared at his size but didn't question his wand work. The rumor was that he'd been a dueling champion. Admittedly, Hermione herself had started the rumor by mentioning that fact to Malfoy and then swearing him to silence (without using a wand oath of course). It was the quickest way to disseminate information you wanted the whole school to have.

She was almost certain Flitwick had been a master dueling champion at some point…she just wasn't certain it had happened as of yet.

It did the professor no harm and helped him control his students until he earned their respect. Hermione practically glowed as the two of them discussed theory. Her body was growing a bit (thanks to all that good, elf-provided food) and she could feel her magical power increasing as her magic seemed to settle into what it would be as an adult. The first time around she seemed to settle early and then had an unexpected growth in her magic in what would have been her last year, making her a bit of a late bloomer. This time, her continuous stretching of her own magic seemed to allow it to grow at a better pace. She was already more powerful than she'd been in her third year the first time around, closer to what she'd been at the end of her fifth actually. She would never have quite the raw power of Dumbledore or Tom, but she wasn't a slouch my any means, and she had years of study even on Dumbledore this time around. There was no debate about who Professor Flitwick's favorite student might be!

She'd managed to train the rest of the students to simply expect her to know more about any given subject than anyone in the room, which helped all those awkward questions about how she knew this or that.

Professor Flitwick happily gave her access to his latest Charms periodicals after the first week, and she read them studiously so she would know what she should and shouldn't discuss.

Tom was more interested in Dumbledore's latest Transfiguration lessons. Turning animals into objects was something he was quite adept at. She decided that human transfiguration was only a natural extension so she provided him with a few extra texts she checked out from the library.

"And how do you know the correct books we'll need to study?" His eyes were narrowed.

She sighed. "The witch that taught me was an animagus. A cat. One of her other students was a stag. It was always something I wanted to learn, before, other things got in the way." The last part was very true. Misleading, but true.

Tom began studying and was quickly emerged in the tricky spells that would lead to being an animagus. It kept him out of trouble and was relatively harmless for someone with his talents.

They both enjoyed Slughorn's class. He'd simply watched them during his first year, but this year he was treating them both like two of his stars…little future members of the Slug Club. Hermione didn't care for it, except it meant he allowed them some leeway in class (especially in the use of the school stores for ingredients). He kept them after class right before his first little party.

"I do wish you could join us, but Dumbledore has been most insistent and I'm afraid Professor Dippet will not relent."

Hermione was rather inclined to tell him she wasn't interested in joining the club at all, but Tom's smooth response stopped her. "He's probably quite right sir. It's a shame to miss all the fun and meeting all of your interesting guests, but I doubt they want to meet a couple of second year students. Thank you so much for thinking of us though…"

He put a firm hand on Hermione's back and steered her out into the hall before she could speak. She smirked at him as they walked down the hall.

"I'm guessing you want to be invited to Slug Club at some point and didn't want me to say what I was thinking."

He snorted, but didn't slow down. "If we want to go into the Ministry it's a good idea to join his 'little informal club'."

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "I don't think I want to deal with the Ministry. I'd be tempted to take it over if I had to spend too much time covered in their stupidity." She knew this for certain because she'd been very tempted more than once during her own time. And that was after Voldemort when she was the wizarding world's golden girl. Going in as a nameless orphan would be worse. The Wizarding world was going to get their first Muggle-born Minister of magic eventually…but even so, she was quite sure the pure-bloods had made sure that he was kicked out rather quickly.

Another thought caught her attention. "Do you want to go into the Ministry Tom?"

"I think I'd be an excellent Minister of Magic. I wouldn't mind working in the Law Enforcement branch to start." Oh the irony.

"I would have thought you'd be more drawn to the Unspeakables. If I had to take a position with the Ministry, it's what I would do."

His brows snapped together. "The what?"

She smiled. He wouldn't admit ignorance quite that way to anyone else. He didn't trust them enough. But he trusted her. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. It wasn't quite as smooth as it had once been. She ran her fingers over it.

"You'll be shaving soon." Her voice was strange. She cleared her throat. "Unspeakables work at the Department of Mysteries. They have their own archives and…"

Tom laughed. "You just want to go play in their library."

She batted her eyes. "Guilty."

He pulled her close. "Think you can sneak me in if I become Minister of Magic?"

Her laughter rang down the hall.

 **HGHGHGHGHGHG**

Hermione watched Tom zoom around the pitch in a spare pair of Quidditch robes on Malfoy's old broom. He looked very small out there with the sixth and seventh year students and she had her wand in her hand in case anything happened.

Professor Dumbledore joined her in the stands.

"I see young Mr. Malfoy has recruited your study partner."

She nodded, but her eyes never left him as he darted about with the quaffle. He might make a seeker yet, though she didn't think he'd be quite as good as Harry was. But he had a good feel for the way his body should move on a broom.

"You never told me why you didn't like brooms."

She looked at Dumbledore and changed the subject. "You never told me how many uses for Dragon's blood you found this summer. I had to read about it in a copy of _Potion Master's Quarterly_ that Slughorn loaned me."

The wizard beside her chuckled. "I suppose I didn't. I've been working on that particular project for many years. I wanted to finish it. Otherwise I might have had more time this summer."

"You are afraid that you will lose if you have to face Grindlewald in a one -on-one duel."

She was still watching Tom but she could feel Dumbledore look at her with some suspicion. She felt a spell wash over her. It felt a bit like the thieves' mirror she'd experienced once in the bowels of Gringotts'. She had a feeling he was trying to rid her of some enchantment, possibly polyjuice or a de-aging potion.

She tore her eyes off of Tom and gave him an unfriendly look. "I'm not de-aged."

"But you are not, if you'll pardon my saying so, a normal child."

"No. I never have been." Again, nothing but truth.

She went back to watching Tom.

Dumbledore didn't seem to know quite what to say.

She frowned at him. "You do realize you're a bit ham-fisted with people, correct?"

His lips quirked. "It has been mentioned."

"I am not your enemy Albus Dumbledore."

His voice was quiet. "I do not believe you are. For one thing, you are a bit ham-fisted with people yourself. Your friend Tom is better at manipulation now than you'll ever be. And you seem to have some very rigid morals when it comes to actually lying, though I can tell sometimes that you aren't telling the entire truth."

Her lips turned up slightly. "And you are?"

His blue eyes widened. She couldn't know what he'd thought she guessed, but he had to realize she knew more than she let on.

She took his hand. "Here is something very true. I hope you defeat Grindlewald. I think you will. You are after all, a bit more skillful than he is, despite the wand he wields."

The older man's eyes widened. "He found it?"

"I suspect so. It won't matter though."

Dumbledore looked down at her and sighed. She smiled at him. "He lost the moment he failed to seduce you to his cause. And I think he knows it."

He didn't ask how she knew so much. He just put his face in his hands.

She looked back up at Tom who had just scored a goal. She waved, but she knew he'd seen Dumbledore's despair.

Dumbledore could sense the eyes on him as well.

"Don't worry professor. I don't think you will face him this year, or next. I think he will be too busy solidifying what he's already gained to move just yet."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I should not look to a child for hope."

She turned back to him for a second and gave him a smile. "Perhaps not, but we all need hope."

Tom, who focus was not entirely on the game, was knocked off of his broom by a stray bludger in that second. Tom, Dumbledore, and Hermione cast spells to slow him before he hit the ground.

Dumbledore looked at her. Her magic had been non-verbal.

"Not an ordinary child at all, are you?"

She put her wand away as Tom picked up his broom and took off. "I'm rather afraid, I am not."

 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

The fact that Slughorn was forbidden to invite them to any of his little parties did not keep him from 'running' into them with his 'guests' in tow. By Christmas they'd met a beater for the Chudly Cannons (their losing streak was only just beginning in this time line, but Hermione couldn't keep the pity off her face when he talked about winning 'next season'). They'd also been personally introduced to Theodolphus Umbridge from the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures (she thought a good anti-fertility hex would be a 'win' for the light, but she stayed her hand).

They'd also met the head Auror for the ministry. He was a stately gentleman by the name of Edvard Olivander. He shared the wand maker's eyes, but not his hair…though he might have the same fey manner.

He did look at Hermione's wand intently. "My cousin told me that _her_ wand had chosen another."

"You had the same great-grandmother?"

His lips barely moved. But there was a hint of a smile. "We did. Wandlore has been our family business for a very long time…though I did not follow in the family tradition, I do know a bit about that wand." He nodded to it and Slughorn was watching her intensely.

"Mr. Olivander implied that the wand had only chosen witches." Tom's question was phrased politely, but it was very bold.

The Auror turned his odd eyes to Tom, and Tom didn't flinch. "As far as I know that is true. Garrett would know better than I, but that wand…it is attracted to a certain sort of witch."

Hermione smiled a tad nervously. "Good witches?"

Edvard Olivander turned to her and she fought to hold his gaze as Tom had done. "Sometimes, even often they were good. They were all powerful." He gave her an oddly courtly bow. "We shall meet again Miss Granger."

She reached for Tom's hand as the head of the Auror office walked away with a nervous Slughorn laughing next to him.

The wand in her hand sent warmth down her spine. She let her magic curl around it, probing a bit. The wand was powerful, but it didn't feel evil to her. Not the way a horocrux did. The wand's magic pulsed and she couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad one.

 **HGHGHGHGHGHG**

Tom found her in the library the next day before breakfast. He put a triple-wrapped napkin full of berries in the pocket of her robes. "The elves worry when you don't eat."

She sighed. "I know. I'm just troubled."

"About the wand?"

"Among other things." She wasn't sure how far she should trust the Olivander family. Harry had always said there was something a bit off about them.

"What have you discovered?"

"There are two woods in this wand. We knew that. I thought I'd start by looking up the properties." She read directly from the leather-bound book in front of her, " _An Ash wand is an excellent wood for promoting the mind, aids in communication, intelligence, wisdom, and promotes curiosity"_

Tom smirked. "Sounds like you. Though you don't need any help with the curiosity."

" _The word "Rowan" is said by some to have come from the same base as the Nordic word "Rune," which means "magic, secret." Some say the Runes were traditionally carved from sticks from the Rowan tree."_ She sighed. "It goes on a bit, but Rowan is traditionally used for powerful protections. A lot of Aurors use one as their secondary wand. Olivander only uses powerful cores, so it's not surprising that this is a phoenix core." She shut the book in frustration. "And I can't find anything about a wand that's been passed down through female wielders. Most wands are buried with their owners these days."

"We should ask Olivander about his great-grandmother's name next summer."

She looked up, pleased with him.

"That would help." She began to put away the books. "Since I can't do anything about it until then, we can get back to our other work."

Normally, Hermione would be planning for a nice long visit with the restricted section of the Hogwarts library during the holiday, but they were planning to ride the train to London and travel with Abraxas and his other guests to Malfoy manner.

They'd found some antique robes last summer. They were plain and black, but her set was made of velvet and his was very nice wool. They'd both been damaged and moth eaten when they were purchased, but Tom had figured out the correct charms to fix those issues, and Hermione could have changed the color…but they left them. Hermione didn't care, as long as they didn't disgrace themselves, and Tom was aware he looked very good in black.

Hermione had charmed some flowers for them to wear…a corsage for Tom and a spray for her hair. They were from the Hogwarts greenhouse, but no one would mind a few blooms.

She didn't have a small 'weekend' sized case, so she'd had to transfigure one. She was glad there was only one major party they'd have to attend. The rest of the time she intended to wear muggle-style shirts with her uniform skirts. She wouldn't look like any of the pure-bloods, but she would look like herself. She was hoping the Malfoys would allow her to leave if the company got too annoying. If not, she'd been practicing disillusioning herself. In her later years, she'd had a few peeks at the books in the Malfoy library. She was hoping that she'd get another chance this weekend.

Tom was looking forward to being introduced to true pureblood society. She didn't know if he would like it or not. She was pretty sure he'd adapt to it like a baby duck taking to water…but would he _like_ it? It was hard to say. She, on the other hand, knew the rules. It had taken some time, but eventually she'd been able to sift the chaff from the wheat on all those pureblood manners.

Two weeks before the event she took Tom to the kitchens, where the elves were waiting. Hermione had visited by herself but she finally showed him the secret door.

"You tickle a pear? Seriously? Sometimes the founders were ridiculous."

She gave him a grin. "Don't let the elves hear you say that. They are descended from the elves that served the original four and they are very proud of them."

"They like taking care of others?"

"Very much."

By that time the elves had seen them. "Miss! You is bringing the young Mister!" The tugged them to a table set in white. There were seven plates, three glasses, and even dozen pieces of cutlery.

"We're going to go over the finer points of pureblood manners. Eating is an art with these people."

Tom sighed, but he sat and gave the elves a charming smile. "Thank you so much for this! It is something I needed to learn."

The eldest elf squeaked, "We is happy to help little Miss teach the young master about the food rules!"

Hermione didn't sit. "If you are accompanying a lady, you always have to pull her chair. I have to assume that this came from ladies wearing clothing that was particularly restrictive, but there aren't a lot of books that described it."

Tom stood and pulled it and sat her fairly well. He was such a gifted boy. She smiled at him.

"What?"

"You really aren't bad at anything, you know?"

He cocked his head and smiled. "It's strange to hear that coming from you. It's like you already know everything."

Her smiled faded around the edges, but distraction came as the elves brought the soup. "Don't worry. It won't take you long to pick up the basics."

By Merlin…it didn't. It was shocking. He was so talented in so many areas, but his almost instinctive understanding for social cues was what set him apart. He picked up the bulk of the archaic manners in one meal. By the day of the party, he was ready to swim with the sharks.

Hermione smiled a little. She didn't mind putting a dragon among the thestrals. The purebloods were going to trip all over themselves to court Tom. She would be beside him, watching for those darker elements that would also be attracted to the boy. While he was working on his manners, she was going over hexes in her head. She doubted she'd get to use them…this time. But it was only a matter of time. She just hoped the next attack was something she could jinx.

 _ **AN: I think I'll be able to update again tomorrow sometime, but then next will be a bit hit or miss depending on what's going on. See you tomorrow!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN: Here is the first update for 'this' week. I will post another update at some point this week, but please bear with me. This week is going to be very busy. I shall write when I can!**_

She was dancing with Malfoy. If the other purebloods thought it was odd that the heir to the Malfoy fortune was dancing with an unknown orphan, they didn't show it. Comments were hidden behind fans, and the occasional hand. His mother, Helena looked on with cool eyes, but did nothing. Her face was peaceful and polite, hidden under layers of polite nothings and makeup. This was what the children in the Slytherin common room wanted to be when they grew up. If she hadn't grown up being sneered at by Lucius Malfoy and his ilk, she might have been intimidated. As it was, they seemed distant, but almost nice in a reserved kind of way. Not overtly hostile.

Tom was dancing with another pug-faced Parkinson girl (How much inbreeding did you have to do to get that face? And to pass it down?)

She turned her attention back to her partner, knowing that anything else was rude. "You are rather good at all of this you know."

Apparently smirking at your twelve year old partner was not considered bad form, or if it was, being a Malfoy made up for it.

"I should be good at it. I've been trained since birth. I would say I'm astounded at how well you fit in, but I am not."

She turned the conversation. If he started rambling about how she obviously came from good stock she'd either laugh inappropriately or hex him.

"You home is lovely. The pre-revolution French influence is particularly nice. Not over-done but very present in the décor."

"I believe you have one of my grandmothers to thank for the French influence. Our bloodline was French originally and we keep contact with our continental cousins. More than one of them fled to England during the French Revolution. My grandfather was quite taken by his cousin's beauty… there were some rumors she was part Veela. In the end, they wed, produced the heir and lived happily ever after…or at least until they died tragically at a young age."

They swayed around the dance floor. "That's not a very happy story."

"Most true stories aren't. They say that there is a curse on the Malfoy bloodline. It goes back to the first of my bloodline set foot in England: a wizard named Wilhelm Malfoy. They say he mistook a powerful witch for a Muggle, raped her, and got her with child. Unwilling to curse her own child, but knowing that she must to keep herself and her child safe, she cursed the bloodline. The bloodline would only sire a single male heir. There have been occasional girl-children born when we wed powerful witches, but from Wilhelm's time until now, there is only a single heir."

"Another sad story. Is there a curse for the curse?"

"We think not. The witch knew the child was male from the beginning. Once she cursed Wilhelm, he had no choice but to claim her as wife and the child as his heir. Her own people would have killed her for taking one of their enemies as a lover, the feeling between the Saxons and the invaders was very dark. Wilhelm himself might have killed her once he knew she was with child. If he could have broken the curse, it wouldn't have protected her or the child. She died early, having set a major curse like that sapped her magic…or perhaps it was simply being married to a tosser like my ancestor. But the curse is the reason that we have one of the finest libraries in all of Great Britain. Every Malfoy generation searches for a way to end it." His eyes had gone far away when he described the curse. Hermione wondered if she'd found the reason that the Malfoys had put their support behind Voldemort during the first war. Had he promised to undo the curse?

Abraxas seemed to shake off his melancholy as he smiled down at her. It really wasn't fair. Malfoy looked like a grown man, even though he was only a sixth year. She looked like a child, stick-thin and barely able to put her hand on his shoulder to dance. It was rather annoying to know that even when she reached her full height she wouldn't be taller than his shoulder.

Of course, she was shorter than a lot of people for most of her life.

"What thoughts are running through that brilliant little mind I wonder?"

She chuckled lightly. "I hate being short. I was wondering if I could come up with a charm that would make me grow to a normal size rather than a gigantic one…perhaps a modified growth…"

He laughed. "Promise me you won't! The world is unfair enough Miss Granger, without you being a physical as well as a mental giant! Believe me, even if you never grew another inch you would not be one whit less formidable. That's all any wizard worth his salt cares for."

"Yes, but it does make dancing rather awkward."

He grinned wickedly. "I could pick you up if you like."

"I'd rather your mother didn't Avada me in the ballroom, thanks."

He narrowed his eyes. "You see? That's the sort of comment that makes me forget that you are only in your second year of Hogwarts."

"Because I've seen the killing curse used more than most people?"

"Most people haven't seen it at all. Even I haven't seen it used on a human. Just on a werewolf hunt."

"They killed him?"

"He was terrorizing several villages. He bit no less than six people. Since all of them were Muggles, they died from the bites."

"That's horrible. When the wizard's body reverted, were you able to tell who he had been?"

Abraxas shook his head and his platinum hair came out of the black velvet ribbon he was wearing. "I could not. The body was quickly taken and set on fire."

"Yes. I've read that even post-mortem the virus is well able to transfer. Sometimes up to a month later if a Syrian scroll I found…"

She bit her tongue. Damn it. She wasn't good at this, but she was normally better than that.

"Sometimes it seems that you lived a lifetime before you ever came to Hogwarts."

A laugh escaped her. That startled, half-mad laugh that she'd discovered inside herself when people kept questioning her unusual knowledge. It was the laugh of someone stretched to the limit of what their mind could endure. She didn't feel that way every day, but often enough, the stress of this situation showed even when the circumstances weren't that stressful themselves. She felt Tom's eyes on her, but she calmed herself and answered Malfoy. "It wasn't boring, I'll give you that."

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

Helena Malfoy cornered her the next afternoon as she read in the parlor. Several of the older girls were being escorted by the young men around the grounds, but Hermione asked if she might rest with a book. She was not interested in another round of gossip.

"Miss Granger. I am so happy that we have this moment alone to speak."

Helena was a proud-looking woman with larger bones than the Malfoys of Hermione's generation. Her hair was more wheat than platinum as well, but she was as handsome as her son.

"Thank you so much for inviting us to the gathering Madam Malfoy…"

"Yes dear, I can see that you know all the proper manners and give everyone the correct title. It's quite impressive. I would like to know more about your family though. My son tells me that you and young Tom were found at the same orphanage?"

"Tom was born there, his mother died. I was sent there."

"And what happened to your parents?"

"They died while running from a dark wizard."

"One of Grindlewald's fanatics I assume."

Hermione changed the subject subtlety. "You dislike him?"

"My grandmother is from Bulgaria."

"Is she here in England, or in the middle of the fighting?"

"Her home was destroyed. We can't tell if she was in it or not. She was quite outspoken I'm afraid."

"I am sorry to hear that." She looked down and her voice turned rough. "We've lost so many…" Even as she said it, Hermione knew it was her old self…Hermione right after the war said that phrase so many times as the names of the missing turned to rolls of the dead.

Helena cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes, her voice held a faint trace of some accent Hermione had once known well. "I don't suppose you've seen…?"

"When we were targeted my parents fled. They weren't even with me when they died. I've never met anyone who was targeted personally by Grindlewald."

"You have no other family?"

"No. I am the only child of two only children. I don't have anyone…well except Tom."

"Your young knight." Hermione looked up and dashed a couple of tears from her eyes. She lifted her chin.

"Yes."

"Quite a pretty boy, and bright, from what my son claims."

"Very." Hermione could hear the pride in her voice.

Helena nodded, having decided something. "Very well Miss Granger. I must go see to my other guests. May I send an elf with a fresh pot of tea?"

She smiled and shook her head and Helena Malfoy strode off.

What an odd conversation.

 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

Malfoy's father didn't make an appearance until the final day of the party, and Hermione finally saw the famous Malfoy bigotry and arrogance.

The guests were at brunch, a matter of perfectly fluffy croissants and sparkling crystal glasses full of freshly squeezed orange juice.

She noticed that Helena's shoulders tensed when the newest arrival stumbled in. Abraxas frowned, but didn't let anything else show in his demeanor. "Father. You said that you would be engaged while my guests were here. I'm glad you found a way to get away from your business in time." The party had been going since school ended and tonight was Christmas Eve. Tom and Hermione were returning to Hogwarts. The rest of the guests were leaving to be with family.

The new Malfoy was gangly, dressed like a French dandy pre-revolution, and his hair was so light blond that it was almost white. Helena added a chair and place setting for him with a swish of her wand. He sneered as he took his seat.

"I was under the impression that my house would be my own again. I had no intention of joining a house party for the nursery set."

Helena and Abraxas both flinched. The sneering Malfoy Pater poured a generous amount of something into his glass of juice and waved off breakfast. "I'll be in my study Helena. Let me know when the urchins have been removed."

He glared at the entire room as he swept out. Tom barely kept the contempt off his face.

She reached down and took his fingers as Helena pushed away from the table. "Well, we have a few hours left…the gardens are knee deep in magical snow for all of you to enjoy! Don't forget to cast protective charms on your clothing!"

The guests (some of whom might have stayed inside under other circumstances) filed out of the manor and spent an enjoyable hour frolicking in the snow. Hermione joined in the romp in the spirit it was offered, but she was quite willing when Tom pulled her into a secluded grove of trees. She cast several spells around them and he pulled out a jar with the little blue bell flames she'd taught him to make.

"I get the feeling when Abraxas said 'How nice to see you' he actually meant 'wish you'd rot in hell."

Hermione nodded. "His mother seems nice enough. She's from Bulgarian decent so she's not a fan of Grindelwald."

"That's a plus. I noticed that some of the other guests lean toward his philosophy, if not toward the man himself. Apparently in the past few years he's become quite mad."

Hermione frowned. "Really? I thought he was just a megalomaniac."

Tom warmed his fingers over the flames and then stuck them into his cloak. Neither of them were dressed for the cold. Hermione made a quick decision and cast a quick warming charm. It was sixth year work, but well worth it to take the pinched look off his face. She couldn't stand to see him cold or hungry.

He sighed in relief. "Thanks. I suppose that's a warming charm?"

She touched his face and looked into his eyes, allowing him into her mind to see how to do the charm. She left the memory of how she did it in her mind all by itself. She couldn't risk him seeing when she'd learned it, because she thought it had been around fourth year.

For his part, Tom was used to her doing this. He nodded as he took in the information. He was getting really good with non-verbal magic.

"Why do you keep your occlumency shields up all the time?"

She looked at the bluebell flames, enjoying the color. "The things in my mind don't bear looking at. I don't like to think about them, and the occlumency helps."

He Played with the motion of the warming charm for a few minutes and tried to cast it. A patch of snow melted. "It isn't that you don't trust me?"

His voice was so young. She looked up and he suddenly found his arms full of Hermione.

"Look again Tom." And she showed him so many moments and how she'd felt as they passed. Big moments like when Dumbledore allowed her to go to Hogwarts, and small moments like that first night at the orphanage when she'd snuggled into his body against the chilly spring night. Eventually she had to blink. "Some days it feels like my life only began when I met you."

He held her tight. "That's how I feel too." He hugged her even tighter. "I worry, because as you get older, people with more fame and gold and family are going to want you…"

She laughed. "I don't want fame. It sounds like a right bother. As for family, I will build my own eventually. I like the idea of being the first witch of my line. I _do_ like being first." She batted her eyes playfully. "I am going to make a philosopher's stone Tom. No one is going to have more gold than us."

"Do you know how strange that sounds?"

"What?"

"Us. Knowing that you mean it. That you'd share a philosopher's stone the same way you share everything with me. Even your magic. You don't mind that I beat you in class sometimes…"

She grinned at him. "Well, I don't mind much. But only because you are a brilliant wizard. I wouldn't stand for it if you were a dunderhead."

The sounds of the snow battle around them had been muffled by their spells, but Malfoy and three of the older boys practically plowed through the little grove and knocked the bluebell flames out of Tom's hands. He quickly extinguished them, and Hermione retaliated with rapid fire snow balls as he built them a defensible bank of ice.

They laughed as they switched. He was offence and she defended the base, intercepting snowballs that tried to come at them from behind. She quickly erected a clear dome as Tom directed watermelon sized snow balls at their adversaries.

Malfoy eventually called a halt to the entire thing, but by then their cheeks were red (she'd cautioned Tom that a warming charm wouldn't be a good idea in a dome of ice.)

When the two second year students exited their enclave, the blond conjured a crown out of enlarged snowflakes and placed it on Hermione's head. One of the older boys muttered something she didn't hear and Malfoy gave him an unfriendly look. "She gets a crown because she's the only girl…and because next time she's going to be on my team. I much prefer to win!"

They walked into the manor, Hermione on Malfoy's arm, a crown of snowflakes unmelting on her head.

The other guests were already in the parlor with Helena, drinking hot cocoa and taking turns at the floo. A house elf appeared as they walked in and took their cloaks.

"Are you having a good time princess?"

She smirked. "You know my name Abraxas."

He bowed extravagantly over her hand. "I do. I meant to only give you your proper title." She shook her head at the blond's flirting. He kept her tucked into his side as they walked down the hall toward the floo.

A taller figure stumbled out of a room, practically on top of them. His blond hair was sweaty and he had a wild look on his face. "I told you this morning boy…"

"Father, we are on our way to the floo. Perhaps if you are unwell, I could introduce my friends another time."

He bent down and looked blearily at Hermione. "This is that Granger chit your mother was going on about…probably someone's abandoned half-blood, is that right?"

"Father, did you mix your headache potion with absinth again?"

The older Malfoy ignored his son's question and bent down. "Poor as a church mouse, hair that makes her look like she got the bad end of a lightning hex. But she's not unfortunate looking beyond that. I suppose you could always shave her head and make her wear a wig. I know you prefer short hair on your lovers…"

"Father!"

"What? You know that you'll find her less appealing once she actually gets some curves boy. You've always been that way. Will she mind?"

Malfoy lowered his voice to a dark, quiet whisper. "I think you need a lie in." He called for an elf who pulled the older man out of the hall with his own brand of magic.

"I apologize. My father often forgets which potions he's taking and never remembers that they enhance his personality rather spectacularly."

Tom and Hermione nodded, but neither commented. Abraxas smiled, but it clearly was only there to cover his embarrassment. "Can I offer either of you a snack before you floo back to Hogwarts?"

Hermione put a small hand on his arm. "We'll be fine Abraxas. Don't worry."

He was clearly uncomfortable as they walked to the parlor, but Hermione went into the floo before Tom, ignoring the look that passed between mother and son. "We'll see you at school Abraxas. Thank you for inviting us, we had a lovely time!" She gave them a genuine smile.

She erupted into Dumbledore's office in a flare of green fire. She smiled wanly at him as she waited for Tom. He was distracted by the reports on his desk (she caught words like 'fire' and 'hex damage' before he put them away…but it didn't take the haunted look from his eyes.) She wondered how bad things were getting for him to look like this so early on. He was about sixty-three if she didn't miss her guess.

Tom came out of the floo in a flash and her line of thought was cut short.

"We'll return to our dorm."

"I hope both of you had a pleasant time at the house party."

Hermione smiled blandly. "I suppose. It was rather disappointing to realize that so many of our leading families seem to feel that Grindelwald's philosophies may have some truth to them. My only comfort is that they seem to dislike the man's actions more than they like his ideas."

"I suppose we can thank Merlin for small favors."

"I doubt Merlin had anything to do with it sir."

Dumbledore grinned. "I suppose not Miss Granger. Get to your dorm, both of you. Tomorrow is Christmas. There will be time enough for these things. There will only ever be one Christmas for your second year."

She did not roll her eyes. Honestly, she wondered sometimes if he said these things deliberately!


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Um…you know how I described this story as a monster in the first Chapter? I did the math, and sort of plotted out where I wanted it to go (I say sort-of because I tend to plot very loosely). This thing could be**_ _ **massive**_ _ **. I use a formula to figure out how long it will take to finish a story once I have the first bit written, and factor in the twists and additional character arcs. Right now, I'm projecting over 100,000 words. Which is a freakin' novel. That I'm going to write. For free. Because I'm nuts…and the story won't let me go. I just wanted to warn all of you.**_

 _ **Also: My characters say things based on their own backgrounds. I really try to write them so they are their own people and they aren't just spouting things that I would say. Occasionally this leads to a chapter like this.**_

Tom didn't speak until they entered the empty Slytherin common room. "Malfoy's father thinks he's a poof."

"That's all you managed to get out of that?"

He grinned and it was the slightly manic smile that she'd seen before…the one he didn't show anyone but her. "It means he's not interested in you like that…not at all." Tom flinched when his thoughts strayed. Hermione knew she'd need to act quickly. He wasn't fond of men who liked boys. Malfoy was built like a man. She could tell the comparison made Tom feel uncomfortable.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think that's what it means at all. Well, maybe when it comes to me, but not all girls. I think his mother is looking for a girl who will want the Malfoy fortune enough to marry him anyway, if it is true and it's not just his father being cruel."

"The purebloods use a lot of fidelity charms in their bindings."

"Still? I've read about them, but I assumed the practice had fallen away as times changed. The pureblood girls certainly don't seem prudish…" Hermione wrinkled her nose. She'd been forced to stop using certain secret passages because they were always occupied, by students in green often as not.

Tom nodded, but there was a slightly pink blush across his cheekbones. "That's where I heard it, from a group of fourth year girls. They were laughing about having their fun before the fidelity charms were in place for a betrothal."

"I don't suppose I can blame them. They don't really have much of a choice."

"They have to give their consent for the betrothal."

"Not always. Not really. Their parents can set it up when they are in the cradle. They can be wed as early as fifteen under wizarding law. But Hogwarts doesn't allow married students to attend."

Tom looked stunned. "Really?"

"I don't think so. I came across a reference once that said that students who marry would need to take their NEWTS at the Ministry after private tutoring."

He looked down. "You won't do it." His words were certain, his voice was not.

She looked at him, confused, "Do what?"

"Marry him."

"I'm a second year student Tom. I'm not going to get married for years. And I hope that when I do it will be someone who loves me."

"Malfoy might care for you, eventually. He's very _fond_ of you." Tom's lips sneered as he said that last bit.

She raised a brow. "Why are you pushing this?"

"I'm just wondering."

"Don't. My body isn't something I'll trade for gold. This is why I want my own money. Because once I have it people won't assume that I'm for sale."

Tom looked down, clearly embarrassed, but unwilling to let it go. "Everyone has a price Hermione. Everyone wants something."

"I want lots of things. I want respect and love, and freedom. I want to change things for the better. I want to spend time learning and discovering new things. I want the people I care about to be happy and safe. I never want to be afraid."

"So you want enough money and power to do those things."

"And the right people too. Trust me, that's the important part. When you have magic you can do without a lot and still have a good life, as long as you have the right people in it. But gold makes things easier."

"So even if you never make a philosopher's stone, you wouldn't marry Malfoy."

"I will never marry anyone for their wealth." Then she teased. "Good looks and brilliance…well that's another story!"

He pulled her closer and kissed her lips. She let him, knowing that there was no real fire in those kisses yet. These kisses were still about marking her as 'his' and not in a sexual way. Still, she could feel the difference in his body as he held her close. She might still be child-like in her proportions, but he was growing again. She wouldn't bet that he would get out of second year before he started shaving a bit…probably not every day, but some. She'd have to teach him the hair removal charm she used on her legs. Eventually they settled into simply holding each other and then summoned books. He still had to whisper the incantation, but the spell was fifth year work, so she was still impressed.

Malfoy walked in and found them like that. Tom's head was in her lap, they were both reading. Her fingers were in his hair.

Hermione noticed him as he came through the portrait. The blond sighed. "I want to speak with both of you before the rest of the Slytherins returned…about what my father said."

Tom didn't move his book or his head from Hermione's lap. "As long as you don't involve either of us, I can't imagine it is any of our business Abraxas."

Hermione nudged Tom and he got up with a sigh, making room for the other boy on the couch. She patted the spot where she'd been. "Come and tell us."

Abraxas slid into the warm leather. "I'm not what my father claims. He _is_ …but I am not like that. My father… His father beat him when he found out, and the elves say he was never right after that. He's broken and dangerous. If my mother didn't take care of everything, the family enterprises would be in ruins. He's jealous and angry and enjoys making life difficult for anyone who is around him." His lips tightened into a thin line.

Hermione took his hand. "I'm sorry." It didn't seem like the right thing to say at all. But what do you say to all of that? Malfoy knew his father wasn't good to him, but he knew why, and somehow that almost made it worse.

Malfoy shrugged. "I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression, and I'm sorry about what he said about you…and your hair. Ignore him. He's an unpleasant man who never has a nice thing to say about anyone. If he weren't my father, I'd hex him myself."

Tom raised a brow. "Let me know if you'd like me to do it for you."

Hermione pretended to swat at Tom. Abraxas watched their hands. He pushed away from the couch. "I was waiting until Christmas, but I brought you something." He summoned two large brightly wrapped gifts from his room. Hermione sighed. Abraxas wasn't trying to buy their friendship, per se…but he had a tendency to change the subject using gold. She'd need to steer him away from that tendency as he aged. Perhaps she could help the Malfoys as well. Abraxas would morn if he'd known how low his family sank in the future.

Abraxas, oblivious to her thoughts, put the first gift in Tom's lap. Tom unwrapped it carefully. He pulled out a brand new set of Quidditch gear, all the correct size. The older boy was practically bouncing. "It's all spelled to grow with you so you'll be able to use it through school. Can't have the Quidditch team slacking just because I graduate." Tom smiled at the other boy uncertainly.

Abraxas plopped another gift in Hermione's lap. It was smaller than Tom's gift. She opened it and found a lovely set of dress robes and matching shoes. Malfoy smiled. "My mother helped me pick them out. We bought them before my father made the comment about your hair, so please don't mind the matching combs that are in there somewhere. I promise, they are only there to hold up those glorious locks."

She smiled up at him. "I'd never take offence. Your father's comments weren't the most hurtful things anyone has ever said about my hair."

Malfoy looked affronted. "They clearly don't have a proper appreciation for a riot of curls."

Hermione smiled. "I hope you aren't expecting us to give you our gifts. I sent them via owl to your house because I was afraid you'd never wait for Christmas if I just handed mine to you."

He sighed dramatically, equilibrium obviously restored. The h looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You are a witch of rare perception."

She laughed. "And a gift for pattern recognition." She and Tom snuck down to the kitchen and brought an armload of snacks and drinks. Malfoy, being Malfoy, went to Hogsmead and bought a barrel of butterbeer. They laughed and played exploding Snap and totally disregarded the rules so everyone was cheating…

It was perhaps, one of the nicest Christmas Eves she'd ever had.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

Christmas morning arrived. Malfoy had floo'd home late the night before. Hermione wondered briefly if something like the floo wasn't responsible for all those stories of Santa.

She and Tom met in the common room and exchanged small gifts.

He presented her with a plant the size of her fist that produced different types of fruit. The bow was a little haphazard, but it already was full of tiny oranges and pomegranates.

"Tom, this is amazing!"

He blushed. "I've been working on it all semester. Professor Hoppart was impressed when I managed to add more than one type of fruit, but it grows forty-three different varieties, everything from bananas to tomatoes and they pop up at random so you never know what you're going to get from day to day, but they are always ready by suppertime."

She was more touched than he knew. How had she ever considered a hastily wrapped bargain book a thoughtful gift? Because someone (Ron) had finally noticed that she was 'always reading'.

She put the precious plant down and threw her arms around him. "You are the sweetest, most thoughtful boy in the world."

His eyes were wide and he patted her back awkwardly before hugging her back.

He unwrapped her gift, a full set of handy books on transfiguration. She'd copied the ancient tomes in the library and transfigured leather covers for them that could only be opened by their owner. Each book had 'Property of Tom Riddle' engraved in silver inside the first page.

They put away their gifts (Tom nearly hugging his books and Hermione patting her new tree fondly) and they made their way down to breakfast. Several of the children were here this year, but none had made it down to breakfast. In fact, only Dumbledore and Dippett sat at the high table.

Several parcels were dropped at their table during breakfast by overworked-looking owls, upsetting the jam jar and tumbling through Dumbledore's oatmeal. Hermione frowned at the mess even as Dumbledore cleared it up indulgently. He picked up the first gift (obviously a book) and joked with the headmaster as he unwrapped his parcels.

Tom was fully enjoying his breakfast beside her. She worried about the coming summer. If she remembered correctly, the Muggle war would mean rationing, especially in London. Eventually children would be sent out to the countryside. She hoped they were at Hogwarts when that happened. Or if not… she turned her thoughts to alchemy and began to wonder if she shouldn't introduce Tom to the Room of Requirement…

Dumbledore let out a gasp that made her look up. Dippett turned his rather dotty eyes to the wizard. "Whatever is the matter?"

In his hands, a pretty blond doll was enchanted…crying piteously for her mother. The clothing was old fashioned, a pale dress and a pinafore.

Dumbledore looked like he'd seen a ghost. The doll's cries continued to grow louder and louder…

Hermione found herself rushing to the doll and pulling it out of Dumbledore's hands. Up close he looked dreadful, skin almost gray, with a haunted expression she'd never seen on his face. The doll quieted as her hand went around it.

Dumbledore's eyes went wild and he tried to pull the doll away. She put her fingers around his wrist and shook her head slightly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I…um….must have gotten Miss Granger's gift by mistake."

Dippett nodded in complete incomprehension.

"What a lovely doll for an orphan girl! Whoever sent it to you dear?"

Hermione did not roll her eyes at the question. Only a very long life allowed her to control herself. Did the man not understand that a war was brewing? "I think it might have been from one of Professor Dumbledore's friends. Perhaps that's why the owl made the mistake."

"I do love that he has taken such an interest in you youngsters."

Hermione smiled as Tom made his way to the table. "He's been very kind."

Dippett sighed and turned to Albus. "I do wish you'd settled down with a nice witch and produced a few of your own Dumbledore. It's not too late you know…there's a fine matron that my late wife taught that would be quite happy…"

Dumbledore sighed loudly. "Thank you Sir, but I need to take Miss Granger's doll to my office to write a thank you to my friend. It was quite thoughtful to send it you know…"

"Oh yes, of course. Off with you then. Christmas dinner will be served promptly at two. Be back in time for pudding!"

 _ **AN: I'll try to update Monday or Tuesday.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN: This is just a bit that didn't fit in the last chapter and doesn't fit in the next one, so it's gets to be an update all on its own! I know it's short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**_

Hermione put shields around the doll as soon as they were away from the headmaster. It was no wonder that Tom had been convinced he could get away with anything with Dippett as a role model. The man was totally barmy.

Tom was looking at the doll curiously as Dumbledore added his own shields.

"Who sent the doll really?" Tom was asking the right question, but there was little doubt in Hermione's mind. She remembered Alberforth's old portrait of Ariana. This was a younger version of the same girl. Sick bastard.

Dumbledore frowned. "I'm quite afraid I know who sent it. Someone who doesn't particularly wish me well. If anyone could find a way around the protective enchantments that keep harmful objects out of Hogwarts it would be him." The older wizard turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I'm afraid you don't understand…"

She shook her head. "I understand enough. And I won't ask why Gellert Grindelwald sent you a doll. I'm quite sure it wasn't simply to embarrass you. It seemed to hold you in thrall until I touched it."

Dumbledore gave her that look…the one that reminded her that he really didn't believe she was simply a child. "That was very well deduced Miss Granger. I suppose you'll be taking Divination as an elective next year."

Hermione snorted loudly and muttered. "Not bloody likely."

Tom and Dumbledore both gave her odd looks, but she didn't explain.

She turned the conversation back to the doll. "Do you think the spell might have been one aimed at you alone? If it simply pulled up a memory that you already had, it wouldn't technically set off the protective enchantments…"

"One day you will tell me how you know about the inner workings of the very wards here at Hogwarts Miss Granger." His tone was chilly.

She shrugged. "I can only say that it is a logical deduction." There was no way she would have been able to put those facts together the first time around.

She turned her attention to the doll. "It's stopped crying for me. Is the spell linked to a female picking up the doll or just someone who isn't you?"

She felt Dumbledore's magic surround her as he tested examined the spell. "Female. Your powers of deduction are truly astounding Miss Granger."

She blushed at the slight sarcasm in his tone. Knowing that bit about the wards really seemed to have shaken him. It wasn't common knowledge even among the teachers. Was she forever going to make these slip ups? Maybe she needed to figure out a way to silence herself so that she wouldn't be able to speak at all…

Tom bumped her with his shoulder and gave her a slight smile. She sighed and let him wrap his arms around her.

The fact that he was obviously comforting her caught Dumbledore's attention, but he didn't ask any questions. He never seemed to. He was busy frowning at the doll in her hands and muttering.

"I think there is a link to the maker of this doll. Perhaps he can only sense that it arrived, but he may be able to do much more. If the doll were outside of Hogwarts he could use it to listen to a conversation or even to apperate to it. Ah…it is a threat. A warning that I should abandon Hogwarts before he begins his conquest….to protect the students else they will be harmed in the inevitable battle between us…"

"What would you normally do with it?"

"Either destroy it or keep it to research."

She reached out and found the tie that connected it with Grindlewald. "Can you cut the tie?"

"He would know that I have done so, and he might be able to reestablish it if the doll ever leaves the grounds of the school."

"What about if you destroy it? Do you think he left any nasty traps?"

He gave her another long look and his eyes flicked to Tom, apparently warning her that she wasn't acting very 'normal'.

"I have yet to check. Perhaps if you put the doll on the desk and leave, I can get started."

She put it down but the doll let out a wail that defied the silencing spells that everyone in the room shot at it.

She picked it up almost immediately. "Bother. Why would he play such a childish prank?"

Dumbledore seemed to actually think about it. "We were friends once. Great friends. We parted ways under terrible circumstances. The doll is a reminder. The fact that it must be held by a female is a reminder. He knew his gift would find me at Hogwarts and that the doll would be held by either a colleague or a student. It's a very effective threat."

It _was_ an effective threat.

Had she expected Grindelwald to be soft? After Voldemort he had seemed…a bit anticlimactic. She'd lived through those last years when Voldemort was most active and using his people and his power to spread terror. His style had been bloody, overt, terrifying. But looking at Albus Dumbledore she realized that a multi-layer threat in the form of a seemingly innocuous object could be effective as well. It wasn't the bloody, dripping head of your best friend in a box….but it was frightening Dumbledore and it wasn't even illegal.

She frowned at the doll fiercely. "I've read about the bubblehead charm. Normally it only blocks air, but it wouldn't take much of a change in the composition to block sound as well. The silencing charm works on the object itself…Grindlewald might not have considered the idea that one could control the vibrations of the air instead…"

Dumbledore raised a brow. "I'm shocked you didn't just cast it yourself Miss Granger."

She shrugged. "I just thought of it. I'd rather not blow your office up with an experimental spell. At least not on Christmas."

Dumbledore managed the spell after a few minutes and a couple of calculations. Tom watched with avid interest. She smiled at him. He had been born for this. Keeping the bright boy in the company of children who couldn't possibly understand him had been a recipe for disaster. He'd needed stimulation and people he could discuss his ideas with. That little tree he'd given her was an excellent example. That wasn't something that had been part of the wizarding world the first go. It went back to his fear of being without food, and she was sure it wasn't something he'd invented the first time around. He didn't have the means to hide a magical tree in the orphanage until he was much older, and once he was, he'd learned to use bullying and charm to get what he needed. She really needed to figure out a way to get more food to the orphanage. Many people had been hungry, almost starving during the second world war while the blockades lasted.

Dumbledore gestured for her to put the doll down and hit the thing with the spell as it began to wail.

"That worked well."

She rubbed her shoulders. "That thing was heavier than it should have been."

Dumbledore hefted the doll, which was wailing under the spell. "You are right. I wonder if he did it deliberately so that it would feel more like a real baby when you held it?"

Its magical face was scrunched up and turning red. Hermione eyed it warily.

"Should I pick it back up? It's disturbing to see it doing that even if you can't hear it."

Dumbledore was running diagnostics. "No, I think that's part of the enchantment."

She wondered if it was, or if it was a clever use of her own mind. She knew that the thing in front of her was not a 'real' baby. She knew that it didn't have feelings. And yet, her instinct was to pick it up and hold it. Perhaps it was magic. But perhaps it was just a sure knowledge of basic human hormonal reactions. Then again, how brilliant would it be to encourage those on a hormonal level? Most spells didn't interfere with hormones, they worked with the pathways of the mind or skipped to the substance of self (as in transfiguration).

Dumbledore looked up. Tom had clearly been watching him, while Hermione had been off in her own little world. "This is going to take time. Go back and enjoy your Christmas."

She and Tom nodded and turned around. Suddenly, the doll shot up, pulled a knife out of its own stomach and flew toward Hermione's back.

Tom pushed her toward the ground, and all three of them blasted the thing into tiny bits.

She lay on the floor of Dumbledore's office, momentarily stunned. "I knew it was too heavy for the size."

Dumbledore looked positively shaken.

Tom looked murderous.

 _ **AN: This is for all my lovely reviewers who agreed with me that the doll was spectacularly creeptastic. I'll try to update again during the week!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN: It's been another rough week, but I managed a bit more on this story. Enjoy!**_

"He has your magical signatures."

She was in the hospital wing, although there wasn't anything wrong with her. Dumbledore told the matron (Pernella Pendergrass) that she'd taken a fall. The woman was already tipsy, and wasn't best pleased to be called away from her fine bottle of aged brandy for a few scratches. The matron wound her way out of the hospital wing, listing slightly to the right.

Tom wrapped his arm around her. "I suppose you mean Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. I t was the real purpose of the doll. It is quite likely that he will target the two of you. Something will have to be done."

She shrugged and hopped down from the examination table. She frowned at the distance. She would be glad when she finished growing. It was unbelievably annoying to be stuck in the body of a child when things needed to be done.

She turned to Dumbledore. "He's just trying to get your attention. He's probably bored with the day to day grind of running his new empire. He doesn't have many great thinkers in his ranks to talk to after all. He prefers followers that are a bit too dull to overthrow him. That's fine when he's busy, but the minute he stops he longs for real conversation." Dumbledore looked up, rather confused. She patted his hand like the grandmother she'd been once. "People need people. They get odd when they can't connect with anyone. Perhaps you really should write him."

He looked like he'd choked on his lemon drop. "You must be joking."

She took Tom's hand. "No. I don't think his rhetoric is any danger to you now. And at the very least, it isn't something he would be anticipating."

She looked at Tom.

"I want to speak with the professor alone for a minute…" She opened her mind and let the boy skim to see that she wanted to discuss something that would embarrass the older man, and she wanted to spare him pain. Tom squeezed her hand. "I'll be in the common room. Malfoy left his exploding snap cards. Want to play a few rounds before dinner?"

She smiled at him. "I would love to."

He walked out without another word. She was so proud of him. Of course while she was in his mind, she'd seen that he was plotting Grindelwald's murder for attacking her…but she couldn't really blame him for that. She needed to find him other friends in case something terrible did happen to her…

She turned back to Dumbledore. "If anything happens to me, you must promise to look after him. There is greatness in him, maybe more than any wizard alive, but dark things know that and try to attach to him."

"That's an odd way to put it."

"He's special." She took a breath and broached a subject that she'd hoped she would never have to mention. "I don't know which curse killed your sister."

Dumbledore's mouth dropped open. His lemon drop fell out and shattered on the floor. It would have been funny in any other instance.

She continued in a rush before he could interrupt. "It doesn't matter who threw the curse. It was an accident. She is gone. You need to forgive yourself or this battle with Grindelwald could be lost. He knows that the doubt is your soft spot and that he can manipulate you using your guilt. You need to find a way to purge yourself of it. A few thoughtless months as a teenager does not need to set the course for your life, unless you let it."

Dumbledore looked awful. He was pale and shaking. Almost like he was having a heart attack. " _What_ are you?"

"Just someone who wants to help. I can't stand to see the burden you are carrying."

"It has to be…he and I have to meet. I know it."

"Destiny is funny like that."

His lips quirked. "Are you sure you won't be taking Divination?"

She pulled a face. "Why would I do that? I'd be hopeless at it."

Something in his expression said that he didn't quite believe her.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

The rest of the holiday was quiet. She surprised Tom, on his birthday. New Year 's Eve was blustery, and she was glad of the stout walls of the castle. The Scottish weather had turned nasty the past few days and the wind seemed to shriek as it tore around the moors.

Tom was staring moodily at the murky water in the lake. "It sounds like someone is torturing and Banshee."

She took his hand. "I have a surprise for you."

He raised a brow. I wondered what you were doing today. Go on then, surprise me!" He tried to skim her mind for clues, but her occlumency shields were up.

She kissed his nose. "No peeking!"

They made their way up to the seventh floor. Hermione had shown him a few of the secret passages, but not all of the castle's secrets. For one thing, it looked horribly suspicious to know the ins and out of the castle after only two years. For another, he didn't need to know all of them at once. Finding out for oneself was part of the fun of Hogwarts.

But tonight she was going to reveal a new surprise.

 _I need a spectacular birthday party for Tom…_

 _I need a spectacular birthday party for Tom…_

 _I need a spectacular birthday party for Tom…_

A door appeared, and she turned to him with a mischievous expression. She opened the door to reveal a perfect child's birthday party, complete with balloons and streamers.

Tom's eyes were wide.

"What is all this?"

"It's a birthday party! It's just you and me this year I'm afraid." She pulled out a small cake she'd baked with the elves and a tin with the last of the butterbeer.

She was quite pleased. There were games, and toy brooms to ride, and a magical carousel that took the painted horses around a half-mile track. A chorus of frogs were humming 'Happy Birthday' slightly off-key.

Tom sat down on the floor. She skidded to him, falling in a mess of robes and her uniform skirt. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

He was biting his lip to keep from crying.

"I just…" He looked up, blinked away the tears lurking in his eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you. I've never had a birthday party before."

She knew that intellectually. She'd known he was neglected and left to his own devices. She'd known that no one had ever cared for him. But something about that admission struck her. He'd never had a birthday party until he was thirteen. She'd simply given him a gift last year; it seemed a bit odd to have a party with just the two of them.

She held him close and felt a sudden, flaming rage at the darkness that had attacked him his entire life. If it had been corporeal and in front of her she would have sliced it into neatly cubed bits and fed it to the giant squid.

Tom was looking at her oddly. Her anger must have shown on her face.

"I hate it. I hate that you never had people to care for you. It's just…"

He kissed her. She wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to, or if he couldn't bear her reaction. Either way, she kissed him back.

This kiss left her slightly breathless. That was slightly disturbing.

She took his hand. "C'mon. The elves sent ice cream and we don't want it to melt!"

 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

The spring term began and the older students were absorbed with studying for their OWLS and NEWTS. Hermione smirked as one of the boys charmed a color coded study schedule.

Tom looked at her oddly.

She nodded toward the boy. "I will bet you five galleons he goes on to write a self- help book."

"What's a self help book?"

She waved him off. "It's a muggle book that teaches people how to live their lives."

Tom raised a brow. "Sounds pretty bossy. Are you planning to write one?"

She nudged him gently with her shoulder. "When would I have time to do that? I'm much too busy keeping you in line." He didn't stick his tongue out at her. After all they were second years now, and he had an image to maintain.

They gathered their books and started for Astronomy. Hermione hated taking the subject so late. Was there a reason why they couldn't record the stars and simply view it the next day? Still, it wouldn't do to be late.

Tom liked Astronomy. He liked the late hours, the precise angles of the stars, and how neat everything about them tended to be. He did well in potions and herbology, but they were so _messy_. He much preferred the neater aspects of magic .

And of course, he was one of the best defense students Hogwarts had ever had.

Which why he pulled his best friend against the wall when he heard a wail. Ever since the incident with the knife and that damned murderous doll, he'd been edgy. Death had stolen his mother from him; he was quite annoyed with the idea that it might steal Hermione as well. Her idea of a philosopher's stone was an excellent start, but they'd need more than just long life. They needed to be invulnerable as well.

He held her against the wall and whispered, "What was that?"

"Sounded like a human."

As one, they started down the corridor, wands ready. Hermione tried to push him behind her, but he slapped her fingers away. He was better than she was at dueling, though she was excellent. He had a touch more power and better reflexes. She knew more spells (how many more, he didn't know. She always seemed to pull out another layer of understanding just when he thought he was catching up.)

They found the source of the noise. It looked like a pile of robes with a skeleton in them, but it turned out it was the Divination professor under a nasty hex. The school matron had him floo'd to St. Mungo's because it was going to take months before he could teach again.

Hermione seemed rather upset about it considering she'd always referred to Divination as 'absolute rubbish'.

 **TMRTMRTMRTMR**

She was holding a book and thinking the evening after they'd found the professor. Most people would think she was reading. She turned pages every once in a while, and kept her eyes on the book. But it was just an excuse to sit with Tom while she thought and to keep others from nattering at her. He was watching her, not even pretending to do anything else. The incident with Grindelwald had disarmed him in some ways. He didn't try to hide the possessive friendship he felt for the brilliant witch. On the contrary, he was flaunting it, playing with her curls, offering her his arm, taking her books. She was _**his.**_ A wizard who was feared the world over had tried to hurt her. He was furious at Dumbledore for bringing it down on them. He was furious at Grindelwald for daring to threaten her. He was furious that he was just a second year and couldn't duel the bastard himself just yet (not if he wanted to win anyway…and losing wasn't an option). He _would_ get faster and better. He wouldn't let…

Hermione shut her book with a determined look. She turned to him. "Want to go to the library?"

Which was code for 'I have something to tell you."

They walked in silence until they were out of the dungeons. She pulled him into an empty classroom.

He sighed. "Other boys get pulled into these to snog. Something tells me you have something more nefarious in mind."

She kissed his cheek lightly. "There. You've been snogged. Now I have a question for you. If you wanted to get a spy into Hogwarts, how would you do it?"

"I'd give them a de-aging draft and send them in as a student."

She looked mildly impressed. "I can see your point. But they'd have to come in as a first year and that might be difficult."

He kept watching. She always had a point to make when she was like this. It was riveting.

"If it were me, arranging to replace one of the teacher's with my spy would rank right up there. Especially if I had the resources of Grindelwald. He could have one follower hex the victim so his spy was never even involved…"

Tom shook his head. "You think that's why the Divination Professor was attacked."

"I think we need to watch whoever it is that they replace him with."

Tom winced. "Do we really have to take the class? I wanted to study ancient runes."

She ruffled his hair…something she loved doing and he only tolerated because she knew more curses than he did. "I can teach you runes this summer. We can still take an OWL in it without having to take it at school."

He frowned fiercely as he re-combed his hair. Then he placed one light kiss on her forehead. She liked it when he touched her. He didn't like touching people in general, but he'd grown accustomed to it. It made him happy that she _wanted_ to touch him…and he could admit he didn't like it when Malfoy or anyone else touched her.

He walked her back to the common room, wondering if there was any way to kill Gellert Grindelwald from a distance. Just because he didn't think he'd win a duel didn't mean he was completely out of options.

 _ **AN: Well there you have it. I think we'll be getting more bits of the story from Tom's POV…he's fun to write…**_

 _ **I will try to update this weekend!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN: Hello there! Another little update. I'll work on getting another on out as soon as I can.**_

Hermione was quite disappointed to hear that the detestable former Charms Professor was returning to teach divination. She returned to Hogwarts with nine cases of matching Ravenclaw luggage and a gleam in her eye. The good news was that it meant she and Tom didn't have to take Divination. The bad news was that the woman was a total waste of oxygen.

If the reactions of the other students were anything to go by, Professor Lestrange (nee Green) was just as incompetent at teaching the art of seeing the future as she had been at teaching basic charms. And this time she didn't have the excuse of planning a wedding. That didn't keep her from chattering endlessly about the details of the event. She spent most of her time showing wizarding photographs of her honeymoon, which apparently had been a three month tour of every dreary forest in Europe.

The woman offended Hermione deeply. Her personality consisted of two parts smug superiority in her bloodline and one part vapid pseudo-intellectualism. (How the woman had been in Ravenclaw, Hermione couldn't fathom).

It wasn't as if Hermione had nothing to judge the woman by. Professor Snape had been a borderline sadist in class, especially during her school years. Moody had been a death eater in disguise. Lupin had been out several days each month because of lycanthropy, and Quirrel had been a human vehicle for Voldemort. Hermione vacillated between Umbridge and Lestrange as the worst teachers she'd ever encountered. Even the near-fraud Treleway had been slightly better.

She tried not to let her general irritation take up too much of her time (or be the reason for too much eye-rolling). Her suspicions about the attack on the Divination professor were dampened by Professor Lestrange's return.

Hermione was quite busy with her alchemical studies. The resources available at the school were on par with several private research facilities she'd worked for in her former timeline. She certainly wouldn't have anything comparable during the summer months at the orphanage.

Slughorn was also quite generous with the potions stores (he should have been since they were paid for by the school.)

She and Tom were also moving forward, albeit slowly with their plan to become animagi. It was simply a matter of proper focus and practice at this point. They spent a few hours a week practicing in the Room of Requirement. She felt that their magic wasn't reliable enough to transform just yet, but she was actually excited about the prospect of it. In her last lifetime, she'd been much too busy to study it until she'd felt she was too old to bother with it. Her mind had been sharp until the day she'd died, but her body had been very frail the last ten years. It made her healthy young body more of a pleasure to be in…most of the time.

She'd forgotten about cramps and mood swings. Though _how_ she could have forgotten those, she didn't really know. How she hated being incapacitated days out of every month! Pain potions were worthless. It had gotten better after her first child, but it had been the bane of her early adolescence…perhaps Ron and Harry's as well, though she doubted they knew what caused her moods at the time.

She was curled up on one of the couches trying to study when Malfoy plopped down beside her. She sighed deeply and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes?"

He gave her his best angelic grin, which was a sure sign he was up to something. He summoned an elaborate gold box. "Mother sent me a box from her favorite Swiss chocolatier." He took the lid off slowly, drawing out the unveiling in a way that was practically indecent. If she'd been in her late twenties and unattached…

She was glad her eyes had been on the chocolate because look in them hadn't been something she wanted Malfoy to see.

The chocolates were gorgeous, each one a work of art. Some were made in the shape of flowers and charmed to open and close their petals. Others glowed faintly with fillings called 'moonlight' and 'sunshine'. She chose a seemingly plain-looking piece…one with a single swirl of white chocolate over a milk chocolate truffle.

It was fabulous. Her eyes closed as she let the sweet linger on her tongue as she'd done with fine chocolates in the past. The rich chocolate had hints of berry and coffee in the flavor itself, and the filling was a fabulous vanilla bean with a slight crunch from the ground beans. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Malfoy smirking at her.

"That good, huh?"

She would have swatted him, but she still had half a chocolate in her hand and she wasn't about to waste it.

"They are fabulous. I need the name."

He draped one long muscled arm across the back of the couch in careless, elegant ease. She'd dealt with Lucius and Draco quite a bit in her last life. The entire family was ridiculously attractive. Abraxas, with his easy manner and tight, well-muscled frame was no exception. His bulk didn't make him at all less appealing in her eyes. In fact, he reminded her slightly of…

"Malfoy, are you related to the Prewetts?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Of course. We're all pure-bloods. You know how we are. All varying degrees of cousins. Aramintha Prewett was my great-grandmother."

She nodded her head. That's why he reminded her of Ron occasionally. They moved alike, even generations apart.

By this time Tom had noticed the cozy way that they were sitting. She got up. No reason to annoy him.

She turned to Malfoy. "It was delicious, thank you."

He gave her a lazy grin. "Come back any time you'd like another sweetums."

She raised a brow. "Fine, I'll do that pumpkin-britches."

The entire room broke out into slightly hysterical laughter. Malfoy included.

"Minx. Will you never let me have the upper hand?"

She grinned at him. "Never. It's not in my nature."

 **HGHGHGHG**

End of the year testing was not the same cause for alarm it had been her first time around. She did have to study a bit (the curriculum had changed a bit and even she didn't remember everything she'd learned at Hogwarts…) but nothing like the first go around. So while the other students were frantically studying, she had a bit more time to herself. She liked to wander the castle to clear her head.

It was on one of those long walks that she encountered a weeping first year witch with jet black hair and a deep brogue near the Ravenclaw tower.

She stopped and looked around, and then she knelt near her. Minerva had been a pretty child, with large blue eyes and lovely bones.

"Whatever is the matter?"

The girl looked up, obviously surprised that anyone had found her.

Her eyes flew to Hermione's tie and she was stunned when the little witch relaxed. "It's nothing." The brogue was more pronounced.

Hermione dug out a handkerchief and wiped the tears off her face. "I've never seen 'nothing' produce quite so many tears, but I'll take your word for it if you want me to."

Minerva tried to pull away, but Hermione continued to dab with the well-washed cloth. "There…better. I couldn't see the pretty girl under all that saltwater! Where is your wand? I'll teach you a charm to clear the red out of your eyes."

She hung her head and said wretchedly. "I'm no good at Charms. We have it with the Ravenclaws and they all say I'm a dirty half-breed that shouldn't be allowed in school." She pulled slightly away. "You should probably go. You seem nice and being friends with me will just get you hexed. You don't want to be branded a blood traitor like my mother. They hexed Olive Hornby just for speaking with me, right in the middle of class."

Hermione frowned. "In class? I can't imagine Professor Flitwick allowing that."

Minerva's eyes started tearing up again. "They work in groups. One will distract him, and the others are into mischief. He's so nice, but he's no match for them. It's his first year as head of house and they want him gone. They say he's a half-breed too."

Hermione used several very naughty words in the back of her head.

"They are idiots then. Professor Flitwick is a brilliant Charms teacher and you are a brilliant witch. I bet you are the best Transfiguration student in your year, aren't you?"

The little girl's eyes widened. "Um…yes. But we don't have class with the Ravenclaws for that. We're in with the Slytherins and there are only three of them in my year."

Hermione fished out a cookie that one of the elves had given her. "We're going to Professor Dumbledore. He's your head of house."

The little girl scrunched into herself. "Oh no! This isn't important enough to trouble the professor, and he's the only one who likes me at all…"

"Tosh." Hermione smiled, remembering when Minerva had used the same phrase. "He needs to know, so you can help protect Flitwick. He's a very young professor. We wouldn't want those little brats to run him off would we? Professor Green was an abysmal teacher last year."

"You mean Professor Lestrange? The one who teacher Divination?" Minerva shuddered. "She can't stand me."

"Well, she's the biggest idiot of all." She stood and offered the other girl a hand up. "Up you go." Minerva took it and smiled a little.

 **HGHGHGHG**

It took little time for Dumbledore to sort things. An hour of gentle words, a few lemon drops and a cup of hot cocoa later and Minerva was back in Gryffindor tower, with a promise of extra lessons from Flitwick to raise her grade.

Dumbledore regarded her quietly. "I had noticed that he was having a bit of an issue with the Eagles. It is a lot to expect a brand new professor to also be head of house, but Professor Lestrange is temporary…"

"She's the worst choice available in any case."

Dumbledore smiled in a way that made Hermione think about Malfoy's smirk. Were they related too? It seemed likely. It wasn't something she'd had reason to research in her past life. "I suppose she has been somewhat preoccupied the past few years with wedding plans. It's the biggest day of a young witches' life you know."

Hermione snorted but didn't comment. "I'll try to keep an eye on Minerva. The Ravenclaws respect my spell work enough so that they won't do anything overt when I'm near. At least not the ones in our year." And none of them would do it twice at any rate. She'd held back all this time and she could do with a stretch. Perhaps she should start dueling alone to brush up…

Dumbledore nodded. "I believe more than one has noted your friendship with young Malfoy, which is a subtle sort of protection as well."

She shrugged. "He's not really a bad sort. Of course, we'll see what the Slytherins think when they find out I'm muggle-born."

"You've been deliberately keeping it from them?"

"I haven't mentioned it. I'd rather not fight hexes constantly and it's hard to be a force for anything when you are a total outsider. I will reveal it at the right time. When it will make them think about their preconceived notions…"

He gave her an odd look. "Were your parents killed because you were a muggle-born?"

She sighed. "They died running from a wizard that would have killed them…it was simply bad luck that they died." A stupid plane crash of all things. They survived running from the most powerful dark wizard in history and were killed by a plane crash…it was like the universe was laughing at her sometimes.

Something that Minerva had said when she sent her back tickled at her mind. Something about Harry Potter's best friend was not left to chance…Now that she knew what she did about the forces of light and darkness…how much of her life was really chance? What were the odds that Harry had just happened to have exactly what he needed each time he'd faced the darkness. What were the odds of Voldemort managing to come back time after time? Was anything coincidence or was it all due to the machinations of forces unseen?

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione found Minerva in the library the next day. Tom was in tow.

She'd told him a partial truth to persuade him: "Look, she's getting picked on and I'm fairly certain she's related to the witch that helped me so many times. Her mother was a Ross, and from Scotland. If there is something I can do, I have to help."

He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't grumble.

"Minerva, this is my best friend, Tom Riddle."

The little witch smiled at him nervously. "I might as well mention, I'm a half-blood so if that bothers you…"

Tom cut in. "I'm an orphan. So is Hermione, and we're tied for best in our year. I'd say the Ravenclaws are just jealous gits. The best revenge is to obliterate them in your studies. Drives them mad."

She sighed sadly. "I just can't seem to do Charms…"

Hermione put her books down. "That's because you're better at Transfiguration. I'll help you study. Trust me, a little hard work and you'll be right as rain."

Strangely enough, Minerva had real issues with Charms. She couldn't get them to work at all. Which wasn't right. The Transfiguration professor from Hermione's time had been brilliant at them. Hermione's eyes zeroed in on the wand. "Where did you get that?"

Minerva looked down. "It was my great-grandmother's wand, the one I was named after."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, she despised Charms."

Minerva cocked her head to the side. "I am not sure, I never really met her. My mother left the wizarding world entirely you see. We were estranged from the entire family. My father didn't even know she was a witch until I was older. I was quite powerful from the cradle on and he thought he was going a bit mad before she finally admitted it."

Tom nudged Hermione. "I bet he did. Did he not outfit you properly when you came?" The boy's tone was unhappy.

Minerva blushed. "They tried…He's a preacher, so money is always tight…"

Hermione nodded. "And your mother thought they could cut costs a bit when she saw that you could use the old wand. It makes sense." She put her own wand into Minerva's hand. "Try it with mine."

Tom looked at her wide-eyed. Hermione was protective of her wand, like most witches and wizards tended to be.

But Minerva managed to make the books dance across the table with a quick swish. She looked at the wand, delighted. "That was so much easier!"

Hermione took her wand back. "Just like I thought. It's almost the end of the year. You can finish the year with your old one if you have to, but you'd be better off going to Ollivander's and getting a new one. Dumbledore could let you floo from his office I think."

Minerva nodded. "Da won't mind, if it makes that much of a difference in my studies. Mum won't like my marks in Charms. I thought I was just a rampaging idiot in the subject!"

Tom smiled at the girl. "I doubt you are an idiot in anything." Hermione beamed at him for the kind comment.

 **HGHGHGHG**

He had a terrible feeling that she was going to collect people for the rest of their lives, the way she'd collected Malfoy, Dumbledore, and Minerva. (He didn't count himself; she was his, not the other way around). It was a bit like an old lady collecting cats really…

Of course, there was a part of him that was pleased. She wasn't collecting anyone that was useless. He'd had doubts about the girl, but Hermione had identified her issue and promptly found a solution. He didn't doubt that if she came back to school with that wonky old wand, Hermione would find a way to fix that as well. She was rather brilliant at finding solutions to problems.

People were drawn to her…it would give him a pool of brilliant people to manipulate for his own purposes. They did take up her time, but he supposed it was only natural that she would want a few friends other than himself. He didn't like it, but as long as he remained her best friend, he'd tolerate other friends. Personally, he wanted lackeys more than friends, but that would have to wait a few years.

While Hermione was busy with her little side projects, he'd begun several himself. The first was finding a way to be invulnerable as well as researching this elixir of life that the philosopher's stone produced. At first glance, it seemed perfect…but then he'd realized that since the inception of alchemy only seven of the stones had been produced. Worse, six of the seven makers of the stones had died. When the maker died, the stone withered as well. Which wasn't a problem per se. He didn't mind tying his life to hers'. She was _his_ after all.

But he wasn't interested in leaving her vulnerable to spells and curses and typhoons and every other bloody thing either. There were a million ways to die. The elixir was powerful and would heal many ailments as well as seemingly stopping the aging process, but if someone beheaded you, you weren't coming back from that. (Perhaps the reason the French used beheading so much during the revolution? A distinct possibility).

What he needed was a way to make them invulnerable. He wasn't finding anything in the regular section, but he hadn't searched the restricted section just yet.

His other side-project was finding his family. Hermione was doing everything she could do to help them out of their disadvantaged circumstances. He would see if he had family somewhere. He loved that everyone tried to identify her as a pureblood, but if she went through with her idea of admitting her breeding, there was going to be hell to pay. To that end, he'd been quietly shaping the ideas of his classmates. At their age, most of them were malleable.

Still, he'd rather be in a position of strength. Having a family would offer a bit more protection.

The only problem was, he didn't find any Riddles…

 _ **AN: So…a little more Tom POV…I can't tell how much of attitude is because he was raised in the orphanage and how much of it is because he was 'born in darkness'…and I have a bad feeling about that last bit. My muse kind of tries to slide around it and not talk about it, which is never good. I'm not sure I want to know exactly what had to be done to hijack his soul to the Gaunt line in the first place (My Muse actively keeps bits of the story from me…anybody else have that problem?)**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**AN: Here's another bit of the story for you! I'll update again this weekend! And I need to say thank you to everyone who has left a review! They make my week. I giggle when I get them. I take breaks at work and check for them. It's sad really. But I'm not stopping.**_

 _ **I think it is time to say once again that all mistakes are mine, but anything you recognize belongs to JKR. It is her sandbox; I'm just building my own little castle in it.**_

The children were a bit shocked when Dumbledore was waiting for them at King's cross station when they exited the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year.

This time, his long gingery hair was shortened, as was his beard. His clothing was entirely Muggle; in fact, he might have borrowed the outfit from the old caretaker at the orphanage, complete with the much-abused soft brown hat atop his head. With his out of date suit and his perfect ease in it, you'd never know he was a wizard at all. She looked at him admiringly.

"Impressed Miss Granger?"

She took his hand. "Very much sir. Are you taking us home?"

He shook his head slightly to indicate that this was not the place to speak. "All will be revealed in time Miss Granger. For now, we'd best be on our way."

He led them outside the station to an old, beat up truck that smelled very much like it had recently been hauling vegetables.

He motioned them to get in, turned on the engine, and moved forward jerkily. "Let's hope they assume I'm simply too old to be doing this and not that I'm a wizard."

Hermione sighed. The ancient truck was a stick. She might be able to drive an automatic transmission once, but she hadn't done it in decades. At the time of her death, Muggle cars operated entirely on their own and looked much more like pods.

Tom grinned. "Let me do it."

Dumbledore let the boy take the driver's seat. She raised her brows. He shrugged. "The caretaker let me learn on one just like this a few years ago when I got tall enough to reach the petals. You'd never know it, but he drove an ambulance in the Great War." Then, like he seemingly did everything, Tom effortlessly put the truck into gear and drove into the busy street like a fish slicing through water.

Dumbledore grinned. "Well done. If anyone is watching they'll assume you are getting a driving lesson or simply being allowed to drive for an old man."

Hermione snorted. "You hardly look old."

Dumbledore grinned. "Pardon my fishing for complements. A man's ego is a delicate thing you know Miss Granger!"

Tom glared at his professor out of the corner of his eye. Hermione sighed. His jealousy was getting a bit difficult to live with. She understood it, but it was still tiring.

She changed the subject. "I assume that you're planning to do some protective enchantments around the orphanage?"

Dumbledore was watching the road with a slight smile. "This is a very pleasant way to travel actually. Reminds me of the old horse drawn carts I rode in as a boy…as for the enchantments, I finished them last night. Being a slightly public place they were a bit of a challenge. Of course, being a complicated problem the answer of absurdly simple…it just took me a bit of time to realize what it was."

She and Tom exchanged a look, but Tom quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

Dumbledore grinned. "I decided that there was no need to protect the hen house if the fox couldn't see that there were hens inside."

Hermione nodded. "So you put a charm on the orphanage that makes them forget we are there?"

Dumbledore nearly choked, then recovered. "No…though that would have worked rather well…I suppose you must have learned about muggle-repelling charms and protective enchantments as well in your unorthodox childhood." His tone was half-admiring, half-irritated.

She looked down and allowed herself a little smile. "Yes. It was a bit unorthodox, but I did learn many protective enchantments. I practiced them every day knowing that my life depended on doing them properly. It makes a difference."

The older man flushed, and then cleared his throat. "Pardon Miss Granger. I forget sometimes that you were not merely learning things at an advanced pace. That there was a very good reason why you were hiding, though you've never shared that reason with me."

She sighed. "There was a prophecy. It made a very bad person think that someone I loved was going to destroy them. In the end it was right, but only because he made it so."

Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow but didn't press. She could practically feel Tom thrumming with curiosity.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Do you believe that Grindelwald will recognize you from this prophesy now that he has your magical signature? I'm quite certain the doll sent a burst of information about the ones that destroyed it right before it was blown to bits."

She shook her head. "There's no reason he should. The prophesy didn't concern him directly." She frowned, trying to decide how to phrase her next words. "I would like to know how he managed to get the doll into Hogwarts when it obviously was built to kill someone."

Dumbledore sighed. "There was a flaw in the logic of the wards. They look for active magical harm. The doll would have remained entirely docile had you continued to hold it. Everything about the doll even encouraged that reaction. Of course, at some point you would have put it down despite the cries, and it would have attacked eventually anyway. The wards simply are not bright enough to detect that sort of reasoning. The Headmaster and I will work on that this summer, among other things."

She looked at him sharply. "I think I have an idea of what you are planning, and I hope I'm wrong. I don't like the idea of you sneaking into his country. Let someone less distinctive do it."

His eyes widened.

"Miss Granger, I know that you are not using the mental arts, and you claim to have nothing for disdain for the subject of divination. I assure you, no one but myself had any idea that I was planning to go to do some research on the borders of his new empire."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not divination. Its logic and knowing the sort of person that you are dealing with. If someone you kknew proposed sneaking behind enemy lines without a backup plan or an extraction team, what would you tell them?"

"First, I'd ask what an extraction team is, and how you would know of the existence of one, but I suppose that the fact you know is my answer. Secondly, I would mention that sometimes secrecy is paramount and limiting the number of people involved is the only hope one has for success."

"It's also a good way to get yourself killed and then where would the Wizarding world be? Is he committing atrocities over there right now? Perhaps. Is there anything you can do about it just yet? I don't believe there is. I realize that my advice won't keep you from going, but please, tell someone, anyone where you are going and why. Someone who might be able to get you out if worst comes to worst and you are captured by his forces."

"And who might that be Miss Granger? I assure you that the number of wizards that I trust are limited. Most of them are quite elderly, and only a few of them are noted duelists. If I am captured, I assure you that the odds against anyone getting me out are astronomical."

She sighed. "If you can't do it no one can, is that right? But it isn't true. You should at least tell your brother where you are going."

Dumbledore actually laughed. "Oh Miss Granger…and here I thought you knew everything. My brother? He'd be more likely to hand me over to Gellert than to come and save me…or better still, avada both of us!"

His tone held years of pent up pain and guilt. She reached for his arm. "I knew things were tense between you, but I didn't know why. I can't imagine having a brother and not being able to…" Her eyes filled with tears as the image of Harry's face as a boy drifted across her consciousness.

Dumbledore and Tom looked concerned as she dashed tears away. She gave them a watery smile. "Don't mind me. Sad memories and hormones don't mix. I can't wait to hit menopause."

The looks on their faces were priceless.

She didn't mention the fact that he was putting himself in danger again. She would bet that he'd done it during her own time line as well. Still, that didn't guarantee anything. Just because he'd survived last time didn't mean he would now. Her being here had changed so many things.

She wondered briefly, if time being fluid was a good thing…but then she looked at Tom. She couldn't regret it now. Not knowing how alone he'd been.

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

They arrived at the orphanage with a slight hiss and a great deal of smoke. Dumbledore shook his head. "I knew this truck wasn't long for the world. No matter, I'll simply shrink it and take it to the muggle what are they called again…machinist?"

Tom shook his head. "Mechanic."

The older wizard nodded. "Ah well, yes. I shall fine one in time I suppose. The man I bought this from seemed very happy to get ten galleons for it."

Tom looked at the dent in the side and the lingering smell of cabbage in the cab. "I think he took you for a ride on the deal."

Dumbledore simply smiled.

He took them to the side while loaded their trucks in a handcart. "The spell on the orphanage will keep you from being seen by people outside of it. People will misunderstand your names if anyone asks about you. They'll hear Harriett or some such nonsense. Unfortunately, the charm doesn't extend outside of the bounds of the orphanage, so stay within as much as you can. I've arranged a surprise for you about mid-holiday, and I imagine you can keep yourselves busy with the clever bag you have Miss Granger. The elves at Hogwarts are going to supply anything you need…it's been cleared through the headmaster once he understood that both of you were in danger from Grindelwald."

"We can order things for the other children as well?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Ah…the Muggle war. I hadn't considered that. The house elves would be happy to assist. Please keep your additions unnoticed…perhaps blame a benefactor so Mrs. Cole will have less reason to nose about…"

Hermione's lips twitched. "That won't be far off of the truth."

 **HGHGHGHG**

"He hadn't considered that?" Tom fumed quietly as they looked at the pitiful thin soup and cheap bread on the table.

Hermione sat down with him and sighed. "Leave it alone. He's not a bad man…in fact he's a fairly good one. He's just not thinking and people have a hard time understanding things they haven't been through." Another year of war had taken a distinct toll on the orphanage. There were more children, and they were more threadbare than ever.

Tom growled, "Lucky him."

Hermione nodded. "Well, no time like the present. Let's give the good news to Mrs. Cole that one of our school friends is going to donate food items to the orphanage anonymously."

The Matron was surprised and fairly pleased about the donation, though it was obvious that she didn't think it would amount to a real increase in the total available food…

"Still any additions are more than welcome." She smiled in her kind, distracted way as she moved on to the next task. There were plenty of them to do. The staff was down to four, and one of them was much too old to do any hard labor.

Tom sighed. "They won't appreciate what you're doing for them. Why'd you put yourself in Dumbledore's debt?"

She shrugged. "First of all, the orphanage needs it. It wouldn't feel right to be well fed while the rest of them live on thin soup and cabbage. Secondly, Dumbledore be more likely to trust me if he feels like he has a hold over me, and I need him to beat Grindelwald, and not die doing something that another wizard could do."

Tom's eyes widened. "That's…brilliant."

By mutual consent they were on their way to the shed. Hermione was fairly certain her muggle-repelling charms were still in place (the shabby appearance was mute testimony to that) and the ministry didn't notice magic since it off the school bounds.

"It's just understanding psychology. In this case, some people are more likely to do what you need them to if you owe them a favor."

"That makes no sense at all."

"They need to feel like they have the upper hand. Don't worry…I don't think it works that way with boys."

"Why?"

"Because adult men don't react the same way to girls as they do boys."

His face darkened. She knew she'd said the wrong thing. She put a hand on his sleeve. "I don't mean like _that_ Tom. It's just, instinct I think. Like people will take in baby animals because they remind them of baby humans and we're hardwired to protect small children."

He looked back toward the orphanage. "Yes, they do such a wonderful job of protecting us…"

She sat on an old bench. "The general public in England knows that the orphanages are here, they know what they are supposed to do, and they don't think beyond that. That's why they have orphanages. It makes them feel like something is being done, so they don't feel bad about it. If they had to look at the children themselves, their instincts would kick in and they'd feel like they needed to help….but once you pun a nice thick layer of government assistance between the children and those instincts, people can just imagine that everything is being 'handled' and they don't have to do anything that would get their hands dirty."

Tom stood by the window looking out at nothing, thinking about what she'd said.

She pulled a number of books out of her little bag. "It's just something to think about Tom…you don't have to solve the world's problems today."

He leaned down and kissed her head. "It's cute that you think that I want to solve the world's problems."

She handed him a book. "Of course you do. You're part of the world. Their problems are going to affect you. Thus, you will want to fix them."

He smirked but he took the books. "What if I just fix my part and let the rest of them sit in a pile of their own ignorance and feces?"

She gave him a smug look. "Then you'd better hope you are far enough away from them so you won't have to smell it."


	16. Chapter 16

_**AN: I realize that the chapters have been a little shorter lately. Lack of time and energy rather than lack of inspiration I'm afraid. I work 14 hour days and I'm a single mom. I would give all of you the option of deciding the length of the chapters (slower updates for more) but if I did that it might kill the Muse and then we'd never know what happened. You have to treat Muses with a certain amount of respect. They can be trained but never forced. I'd rather do this by ear and just promise to do the best I can on updates and length. That said…here is a new chapter for all of you! Enjoy!**_

The first part of summer wasn't too bad…if you didn't count food shortages, soldiers occasionally being quartered in the orphanage, and terrifying air raids in the middle of the night where bombs dropped at random all over London. Barring all of that, it was brilliant.

Tom said several very naughty words as they sat huddled in blankets in one corner of the orphanage.

His face was illuminated only by the moonlight. No lights were allowed during raids. "One hour and my wand…"

She quieted him but held him close. There had been a few raids over the spring, but during the fair weather of the summer, the sirens had been heard many times. Normally the bombs hit things like the port, but several manufacturers were near the orphanage, and Hermione was quite certain the German planes were dumping the bombs by hand. Hardly the most accurate method.

The matron had them gather in the dining hall and sleep together on nights when the siren sounded.

"Because that way if they hit we can be sure to all die together." Tom's caustic comments didn't worry Hermione as much as the real possibility that they could die in this timeline. And if she died, what would happen to Tom? Would he still become Lord Voldemort? She started keeping her wand with her in the clever holster on her wrist. She even snuck into Diagon Alley to place a notice-me-not charm on it. It had been worth extra chores when the Matron figured out she was missing.

Tom didn't help her do the extra laundry, but he stood beside her while she hung the sheets. The three girls who had once helped at the orphanage had all taken better paying jobs in the nearby factories that had once been filled with men. The cook was now an old man, scarred and half-lame from a dose of mustard gas he'd gotten in the great war. A war that would be known as 'World War I' when Hermione had been a child the first time.

The children were expected to do nearly everything to keep the orphanage running. Even the littlest ones were assigned to work groups. Tom and Hermione only had to help in the enormous kitchen garden…Mrs. Cole had discovered they were excellent with plants, and since her dinner depended on the garden, she was more likely to place the best gardeners to that task. But when assigning punishments, it was quite often washing the sheets from the littlest ones that were still in cloth diapers. Hermione was seriously wondering if she could get away with inventing a washing machine.

"What did you sneak out for without me?"

She inspected the sheet as she hung the heavy thing up. "I needed to set a spell and I didn't want you to get in trouble if we were caught."

"You know I never get caught."

She grinned at him. "You haven't gotten caught yet, it's not the same thing. Everyone gets caught eventually. Go on. I know you have reading to do."

"I do, but I'd rather keep you company while you work." He stretched out in the sun like a cat, and was quickly asleep.

She watched him while she hung out the wet sheets. The sun was nice and he hadn't been sleeping well…neither of them had.

The elves were sending bread though, so the meals had improved quite a bit. Three rolls for each child at every meal, and they were always delivered warm and ready. Hermione wondered if the cook had been hit with a mild confusion charm because he never questioned. Then again, judging by the greasy mess he normally cooked, there was a chance he didn't know how much work all the rolls would have been to make and deliver if there was no magic.

Even with the bread and the occasional main dish or pudding, the bulk of the food came from their own garden in the form of ever-present cabbage in all its many incarnations. Hermione grew faintly nauseated by just the smell and quietly started sneaking her portion to other children.

Tom was not pleased.

"You have to eat Hermione." He tossed her a red, ripe apple the likes of which she hadn't seen in…well maybe not ever. It was beautiful.

"Where did you get this?" She lifted it to her nose, the scent was divine.

He smiled at her in lazy satisfaction. "Nicked a couple down by the train station when I picked up Mrs. Cole's things in the truck." He saw her frown. He put his hand around the fruit and pushed it at her. "They are fresh apples Hermione. The way they were shipping them, most of them will spoil long before they get to the front anyway. I doubt they ever make it that far. Most likely they'll end up in the officer's mess hall in France. It won't hurt anything if you eat one."

She sighed and bit into the flesh. It was tart-sweet, the taste bursting in her mouth as the juice threatened to dribble down her chin. She offered Tom a bite, but he shook his head. "I already had mine." She wondered if he really had. He was quite capable of lying to her about it and feeding her the only decent one he'd nicked. Without meaning to, she found herself skimming his thoughts, the way he often skimmed hers'.

He felt her intrusion and Tom's eyes widened. "You didn't mean to do that did you?"

She blushed. "No, I just wanted to know if you'd really had your apple…"

He laughed. "We spend lot of time in each other's heads. I don't know occlumency as well as you, but I don't think you normally wander into people's thoughts without meaning to. I did it all the time as a child." He looked unhappy suddenly, as if something had left a foul taste in his mouth.

She moved to his side and gave him a one-armed hug. "People can be cruel."

He kissed the top of her head and moved toward his book and picked it up with apparent indifference. "People _are_ cruel, with a few notable exceptions. Spend too much time in their heads and you'll see that. There's very little in this world that isn't dark and selfish."

He was looking for his place in his book as he said it. She took the book from his hands and kissed his mouth. "It's not so. There are places where people are better than the ones you've known. There's a lot of darkness that seems to circle around you."

He gave her a hard look. "I don't have anything to do with these people being the way they are.." His voice was like a whip of flame. His hurt clear for her ears to hear beneath the acid.

She cupped his face. "No! That's not what I meant at all Tom. I mean that the darkness in people is attracted to you because of your potential and you don't have parents or anyone to shield you from it. The dark wants you."

She hadn't meant to tell him yet. Didn't want to put it like that at all.

He took his book back, but didn't look at it. Instead he stared at her. "Sometimes I wonder if you are brilliant or mad."

She gave him a watery smile. The note of humor in his voice let her know he wasn't holding a grudge. She took a bite of the apple. "You know Cassandra was supposedly under a curse with her gift. She saw the future, but no one believed her."

"Do you see the future?"

She sighed. "The only way to see the future is to live through it. And even then you can miss a lot."

He watched her intently. "Of all of your careful non-answers, I think that one is my favorite."

She hugged him. "I'm going to my room to rest a bit."

"Finish your apple."

 **TRTRTRTR**

He had coated the apple with a watered truth serum that he'd brewed last year quietly during potions. Slughorn really could be talked into anything and Hermione wasn't very observant when her nose was buried in a book. According to his calculations, this truth serum (which was no where near as powerful as the most potent brews) would unhinge her inhibitions slightly and loosen her tongue. He'd been shocked that she side stepped the future question the way she had…he'd learned long before that when someone was hiding things the way they hid them was telling.

Hermione's little habit of not lying by stretching and distorting the truth was actually a great deal of fun. He'd take time to ponder what he'd learned.

The one thing he was quite sure of was that she was on his side. He wasn't sure what the limit of it was…he didn't know if she'd help him hide a body, and he was quite sure she wouldn't approve of him killing anyone, but she watched over him like a combination of a bodyguard and mother.

He didn't want her to be either of those things to him.

He checked her room, and she was sleeping, apple half-eaten on her bedside table. Her wand was still in the holster on her wrist. She'd hidden her wand so she could carry it but had not offered to hide his. Before he'd known her he would automatically assume betrayal, but with her, he knew she was simply protecting him for the Ministry.

He noticed how she avoided their attention. She didn't like or trust them. She watched visiting Ministers the way she watched his snakes when he brought them to her. She wouldn't strike first, but if they proved dangerous, she would strike to kill. He often thought his affinity with snakes helped him understand her, at least a bit.

He stroked her wild curls lightly. She was his. His oracle, his guard, his angel. He absorbed her knowledge at every turn so that he would be her equal or (better still), superior to her. It would be a grand thing, for her to look up at him as the one who had the plan, who knew the way. The other children did when he deigned to notice them.

He didn't socialize with the others much though. Hermione was his friend, and the rest could not compare. Even Dumbledore looked dull beside her. And he knew for a fact she was holding herself back, hiding most of her power.

He pulled a light blanket over her form. The bones were sticking out a bit. He'd mention it to the elves and see if they could arrange something more appetizing for her. He would eat the slop because it was expected, but she was softer. She didn't complain, but she hadn't had the hungry times.

Of course, that was partly because she was absolutely brilliant about planning to avoid them. He scratched out a note for the elves and put it in the clever little bag she'd made. Then he turned to her, pushed the curls off her brow, and kissed her pale forehead.

"Goodnight Hermione."

She smiled a little at his voice and muttered "'Night Tom." She pulled him into her arms with surprising strength. He was larger, but she curled protectively around him. He wasn't tired, but he allowed her warmth and the quiet to lull him into a daze, and later a long, dreamless sleep.

 **HGHGHG**

She was looking at him when she woke, red-faced and clearly embarrassed. He felt slightly embarrassed himself, but he didn't let it show. He'd spent the night with his face buried in her hair for the first time since they were in first year. He'd missed her warm comforting weight snuggled next to him.

So he gave her a light smirk (an expression he'd stolen from Abraxas). "You wouldn't let me go last night." He knew how it sounded, and while he wasn't ready to back those words up himself, (not at fourteen) but he liked how it brought an even brighter blush to her cheeks. He kissed her nose. "I missed sleeping with you."

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. He liked that she had to do that…he liked it a lot actually.

"Tom, I'm sorry I did this, but what if we'd gotten caught? Mrs. Cole would have our heads on pikes."

"Strange that a woman who didn't notice that procurers were stealing the children from the orphanage would throw a fit about two of them sleeping safely and chastely in the same bed."

She chuckled. "And yet, one must play the game of bending to societal expectation. We can't flaunt it too much, not yet. Once we graduate the expectations in the wizarding world are different…"

Tom huffed "But still there. I don't like that people want to dictate to me. Most of them aren't fit to wipe down my boots."

She pressed her lips to his chin, which was the only part of his face she could reach as tangled as she was in her blankets. "I know. I know. And there will be things we can change. But if we don't want to follow any of their rules we'll have to find some nice lonely spot somewhere and ignore them from a distance. Large groups of people don't take kindly to people who flaunt the rules and eventually those people are removed, often violently. "

"We're going to be stronger than them."

"Some of them yes, but not all of them. And besides, there are a lot of good things about being with other people. More things to learn, more things to do. Larger projects can be accomplished. Some of them are quite brilliant and know things we don't. I would hate to leave before I learned everything…but if you'd rather not be held accountable to the rest of the world, we'd better start looking for a place with no people to relocate to…"

He shifted slightly under the blanket; hand on the small of her back.

"I don't want to go anywhere before we get our NEWTS. After that, we can decide."

She smiled. "I like that idea. And it gives us five more terms of eating the food at Hogwarts…by the way, if you want to drag me off into the hinterlands, you'd better learn to cook. I'm not any good at it."

Tom pretended shock. "What? Something that Hermione Granger can't do? Be still my heart! I never thought I'd see the day you could admit it!"

She buried her head in his chest, trying to muffle her laughter. "You are less likely than I am! Which is why you should take cooking lessons from the elves. I propose a simple trade. If you learn to cook, I will learn the cleaning spells to do the dishes."

Hiding his euphoria at her words, he held her very close for just a moment. He felt like the king of the world. She had all but stated she was his and would follow him into the hinterlands if he demanded it. She would do the dishes if he would cook. She was planning to be with him after school. This was no temporary alliance she was anticipating. She had never indicated that it was, but he was always waiting for people to leave, he couldn't help it.

He controlled his joy and pretended to be put out. "Well, I suppose, if you are incapable of learning to cook, I shall have to learn so we don't starve."

She freed herself from the blankets and kissed his lips, a warm, dry kiss that he wanted to deepen, but didn't quite dare to.

And deep down, he felt real joy bubble thought his heart, taking unaccustomed pathways, and going places it had never been before.


	17. Chapter 17

_**AN: Alas! This is another short-ish chapter! I even cut about 500 words out of it when I edited (much as I hated to). This one is all Hermione POV, but never fear, the next chapter will be largely (or completely) Tom. I know how all of you love getting in his head. I will try to have an update for you this weekend!**_

Dumbledore had once told Harry that Tom Riddle had never had a friend, nor had he ever wanted one. She'd always wondered about that turn of phrase. In her first life Ron had never questioned the assumption and she and Harry had never discussed it, but…she thought perhaps Harry had wondered as well.

It was a cold thing, to have no parent in the world truly care if you lived or died. She'd learned the truth of that when she'd taken her parent's memories. Harry had known it all along. Tom…Tom had never known anything else.

So she didn't keep Tom for sneaking into her room at night. He held her while they slept and it was simply an extension of what had always been.

She wondered, sometimes, how many lives they had lived together in one way or another. She knew that they must have. Minerva said as much. And the others? People she'd connected with instantly over her long life? Harry for certain…she knew in her bones she'd spent many lives protecting Harry. Was he always the chosen one?

And Minerva. Hermione itched to continue her friendship with the little witch, but she had no way to communicate with her over the summer. No access to an owl and no muggle money for stamps…but she missed Minerva. They'd spent lifetimes together no doubt. A part of her couldn't wait to find out where she'd been in all those lives, to be across the veil and with those other champions…friends and comrades that she could keep for eternity…

And she looked down at Tom, sleeping peacefully by her side and realized that if she failed, he would not be there with her across the veil. His soul would go on to whatever normal souls did after they passed…or worse, they would go to wherever the dark kept their champions. She clutched him reflexively, waking him.

He stared at her with bleary eyes. "What's wrong?"

She snuggled back into her bed. "Nothing, just a bad thought. Just hold me and go back to sleep."

He pulled himself up on one arm. "What were you thinking that frightened you?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it."

He rubbed a circle on her back, warming her when she didn't even realize she had been cold. "You can't keep everything in all the time Hermione. You never discuss your past or everything you lost."

She sighed, sensing she wasn't going to get out of the conversation without giving him truth. It was strange that he was chosen to work with Dumbledore…or perhaps not. Tom could sense lies and Dumbledore had a nasty habit of lying through his teeth for the greater good. Perhaps they would have kept each other honest if the dark hadn't interfered with Tom's path.

"I wasn't thinking about the past. I was thinking about the future."

He kissed her hand and pulled her even closer. "Why would the future frighten you?"

"It isn't what you think. I just…worry. Life is uncertain and I know we'll have some major obstacles to overcome. I don't think people with our talents will be allowed to live on a mountain like hermits. I think the battles will find us, no matter where we try to go."

She remembered that moment in the Forest of Dean…if she and Harry had stayed, wouldn't the battle have found them? She was quite sure it would.

She hugged him and rolled out of the bed. "It was a moment of panic, that's all."

He was behind her, arms wrapped around her. How tall was he now? He'd been very tall the first time around hadn't he?

"Hermione, I want to know what you were thinking."

She turned in his arms. "I was just thinking about death…and what comes after."

"What do you think comes after?"

"More. But that's hardly the point."

"What's the point?"

She cupped his face. "I don't even know how to explain it Tom."

"Try." He was becoming more dominant as he aged. It was his nature she supposed, but she wasn't the sort to be cowed by him. He needed to be challenged or he'd become a ruthless dictator…literally.

"I just don't want to lose you to anything. Not even after we die."

He crushed her to his frame, and she felt a tiny stirring in her body. She ruthlessly suppressed it. He was much too young, even if boys never thought they were. Kissing him passionately now would lead to other things sooner rather than later. She had to do her best to delay it. Give him time to mature. Waiting until they were both seventeen would be hard, but it was her current goal. She managed eighteen in her first life…but since she sincerely hoped a megalomaniac wouldn't be chasing them cross country this time, she resigned herself to midnight on his seventeenth birthday. It would take a full blown war to distract Tom by that time, and their sixteenth year was going to be hell.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What were you pondering Miss Granger?" His voice suggested all kinds of interesting things. She shook her head. "I was thinking about inventing a chastity potion so that teens wouldn't be distracted by hormones when they ought to be studying." She could do it too…

She didn't expect his manic, thrilled laughter. He picked her up and swung her around like a doll, and then he really did kiss her, his tongue slipping into her mouth and stilling, waiting for her response. He had no clue what he was doing. She caressed it with her own, sliding her tongue into his mouth like she'd just told herself not to do. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her belly pressed against his body, small breasts to his chest.

She pulled away, panting slightly. "And that's why I'm thinking of a potion."

He pulled her back against his body, but didn't kiss her again. "I'm thinking about potions too."

She smacked him. "Stop it! You know this is a bad idea. All other concerns aside, they don't allow pregnant students at Hogwarts. And I _will_ finish my NEWTS Tom."

He nuzzled the side of her neck. "You could probably get a NEWT right now in charms with a few weeks of study. But I agree. We need to dazzle them. I want to see their faces when they test you." He gave her that wild grin that he didn't show other people (with good reason too, it made him look like a madman).

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

They didn't have long to ponder the change in their relationship. Another group of soldiers were quartered in the orphanage the next day and Hermione was herded off with the other 'young ladies' one overstuffed hallway and Tom was supposed to be sleeping with the boys in another. She knew for a fact he wasn't sleeping there at all, merely spending his nights sardined with the other boys. Tom could never sleep with so many unfamiliar people around him.

The addition of the soldiers added a great deal of weight to the chores, and very little to the pool of workers as they spent their days drilling. The enlistment age had just been raised again and these were the result…largely farmers and merchants with families that were being sent to one of the three major fronts.

They did come with vouchers for food items, but they ran through the garden like locusts. Hermione started carrying bread in her pockets for the younger children because the older ones were taking their shares again.

Most of the soldiers were upstanding citizens, but there were one or two that Hermione was watching. She didn't doubt there was reason that these were quartered with them right at this moment when Tom was near.

However, she didn't have to act on her suspicions. Dumbledore appeared in Mrs. Cole's office, looking weary but whole. Mrs. Cole looked slightly worried, but mostly relived. "Your Professor has decided to take both of you for an extended trip for a few weeks."

Hermione did her best to look pleased instead of suspicious. "Thank you so much Professor Dumbledore. It's quite kind of you to think of us."

His twinkle had yet to recover from whatever mischief he'd been up to in Europe. He simply nodded and took the paperwork from Mrs. Cole.

She caught Tom's eye and once they were out of the office she pretended to fall. She came up with her wand in her hand and it was pressed to the wizard's throat in half a second while Tom pocked his wand seamlessly. Hermione snarled, "Tell me what happened when Albus Dumbledore and I first met."

His brows raised, but the twinkle returned a bit and he chuckled. "You did not have a Hogwarts letter Miss Granger, but you quickly showed me you deserved one with a very precise use of wandless magic."

She sighed in relief and put her wand away quickly.

Tom nodded to the professor quite cheerfully as he handed back the wand (Hermione expected that it pleased him down to his boots to see Dumbledore lose a draw to a 13 year old girl, however unlikely it was that it would have ended in her favor if he had not been the real professor).

Tom's grin held an edge of something a tad bit scary. "Sorry sir. It just seemed a bit off. You said something about a surprise during the middle of our break but never mentioned coming back yourself."

She gave him a look, but he didn't quite contain his good mood.

Dumbledore was twinkling in full force now. It actually confirmed her suspicion that it was a defense mechanism. She wondered what his home life had actually been like. From what she knew, it had been dark. Aberforth had said it: 'Secrets and lies' learned at their mother's feet.

"Sorry about that Professor." She made no excuse.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "No, it was well done Miss Granger. However, if the subject should come up again, perhaps you should consider running away? I don't doubt you are quite gifted at hexing, but it would be difficult to face me and win, even with the advantage of a wand at my throat. I'm quite able to summon my wand should it go missing."

"I know that it could have gone badly wrong. If you'd answered wrongly, I would have told Tom to run and I would have used the most deadly curses I know." She didn't elaborate, but Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. Tom looked like a thundercloud.

"Then for all of our sakes, perhaps we should come up with a code. I would hate to face your wand simply because I was very tired."

She smiled at him. "You look done in sir."

He nodded and herded them both out the door. "Don't worry about your things, I asked one of the elves to pack for you."

Tom frowned. "Why the sudden change?"

"I believe that there are several wizards looking for you. I think you would be safer somewhere else, especially with bombs going off all over London."

Hermione nodded. "We're going back to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Professor Dippet will not authorize it unfortunately. Nor can we return to my own home. The charms protecting it were compromised." He sighed. "My brother is a bit of a hellion, even at our advanced age I'm afraid. I tried to warn him about Gellert but it simply stirred up old wounds. Speaking with him was a bloody mess, if you'll pardon my language Miss Granger."

She sighed. "Old wounds that heal badly are the worst kind."

"Indeed. That said, I have a new plan for the summer now that my little excursion is over."

Hermione raised a brow. "I see you came back with all your limbs and most of your beard."

Dumbledore twinkled and this time it looked genuine. "Miss Granger, I'm crushed. A man can't trim his facial hair with someone disparaging his character?"

She blinked twice. "So what caught it?"

The older wizard laughed. "Nasty cutting hex. I ducked when I should have dodged. Had to trim the whole thing."

Tom snorted. Dumbledore shrugged. "In any case, we'll be traveling to an old friend's home. I will stay with you for a few days before I see to some other matters." He flinched at Hermione's hard look. "Nothing dangerous. I simply intend to confront my recalcitrant sibling."

He gripped both of them tightly and apparated to a cozy-looking cottage on the edge of a deep lake, surrounded by ancient trees.

A very short wizard in medieval robes waved brightly from his window and hurried out of the cottage with a small woman who was obviously his wife. "Albus, my boy! Glad to see you back in one piece."

"Can the whole world guess where I've been this summer?"

The little man looked at the children with obvious delight. "Oh? Your students figured it out as well? Well it was the obvious move to those who knew both you and the situation. Rare perception to figure you out so quickly though…"

Hermione beamed at the small man, and Tom followed her lead instantly, catching the edge of her thought.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "My clever students seem to have guessed our little surprise, but let me introduce you properly…Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle…this is Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.


	18. Chapter 18

_**AN: I know this is a little later than the norm, but it's a bit longer than they have been as well. I will give everyone fair warning…April and May are the busiest months of the year for me. I have no idea how this is going to affect my writing. Some years I stop all together and some years I actually write more because I work it in at odd times when I have to wait on things. We shall see what kind of year this is. Now, on to some lovely Tom POV! There are a couple of others tossed in there too…hope you enjoy!**_

Tom watched them all from a convenient corner. The Flamels didn't seem young, but neither did they seem old, and he knew for a fact they were something like 700 years old. They were the ones who had invented the first philosopher's stone. And Dumbledore had brought him right to them.

Not that he intended to do anything but be his charming self and learn as much as he could. When the maker of the stone died, the stone would wither away like it had never been. That meant that Flamel's stone wouldn't do anyone else any good in the long run. After all, who needed a single dose of the elixir of life?

No, Tom's sights were set on learning how to make this magic himself.

But it took them ages to start discussing the meat of anything at all concerning alchemy. Hermione tried to bring up some of the concepts that had been difficult for her several times, but Flamel or Dumbledore cut her off each time with a clever distraction. He didn't think for a moment that Hermione was fooled, but she let the subject go each time, assuming that time and patience would win the day.

For his part, Tom was not inclined to leave the comfortable, magical cottage to go back to the stark orphanage. Flamel had a wide array of books, many different from the ones available in Hogwarts. He would let Hermione hound them overtly. He preferred a good ambush to the chase.

In the meantime, the food was quite as good as Hogwarts', though the French cuisine that was served was somewhat unfamiliar the savory aromas soon converted him. The delicate sauces and the freshest ingredients made each meal an occasion to be savored.

Savoring life seemed to be the theme. It was an odd feeling to go from wolfing down his food so the others wouldn't have a chance to grab it to this. But Tom was nothing if not adaptable, and this adaption was quite pleasant.

Mrs. Flamel (call me Perenelle!) was the mistress of the cottage and garden and the first to suggest playing with firebirds in the rain or a hunt for the crumpled horn snorkrack (he never did discover if she thought the beast was truly real or if it was all a game designed to keep them outside all day).

She was free with her hugs (as short as she was she came only to Tom's chin) and fed them at every opportunity. Both Dumbledore and her husband asked her advice when they were discussing the finer points of alchemy, so Tom certainly did not discount her experience. There was a gleam in her eye that let him know she appreciated this. She might move like a fairy princess, but she used her wand like a viper. Tom found he rather enjoyed her presence.

He was reading one rainy afternoon with Hermione tucked into his side when Perenelle came into the library and beamed at them.

"My husband and Albus had a few errands to run. Would you children like to help me in the lab?"

They perked up and quickly marked the books while being careful with the expensive tomes. Flamel and his wife might live in a simple cottage, but he certainly didn't stint the library…or it must be mentioned, his wine racks…it was one of the man's few flaws that he tended to over indulge a bit after dinner and become rather gregarious. (Tom had tucked it away in his mind, but didn't attempt to use the weakness…Perenelle had no such issue and she was always around…and she was much less verbose and much more alert.)

The witch led them into the alchemy lab, and here was where the true expanse of the Flamel's wealth showed. Gleaming slabs of non-reactive diamond served for the main prep surfaces. Cauldrons in every material from base iron to gold and many others Tom couldn't even name lined shelves designed for them. Potions ingredients of every sort lined shelves in an expanded room that went further than the eye could see.

Perenelle handed them dragonhide gloves and neat goggles. Neither she nor her husband were large, so Tom assumed that these were their own safety equipment. Thick aprons of more dragon hide were tied over their clothing and the alchemist beamed at both of them.

"There! Oh, aren't the two of you adorable? Now, we're going to turn some lead into gold today, just so you can get a feel for how the stone actually works."

Tom's jaw dropped. Perenelle gave him a wicked grin. "As if we don't know why most people want the stone. Still, your case is unique. I have a soft spot for brilliant children and my husband indulges me. Making the stone is no easy feat, and it will require years of work, even if you have the proper temperament. Of the people who get past the early stages, most don't have the talent. Others don't have the endurance. But there is another secret to making the stone. It's the most important facet of making it, in fact. And it's something you have to realize for yourself. Only those who prove themselves worthy can achieve it." She pulled on her own gloves. "I think the two of you might just be the right raw ingredients to use to make alchemists." She gave them a little grin. "We just have to use the right process to get rid of the impurities."

Tom looked at her with wide eyes. She looked a bit mad as she hefted a large chunk of lead toward a flaming furnace. "First, understand that fire, at proper temperatures, is your friend. True change almost always requires it…"

 **HGHGHGHGHG**

Tom instinctively knew that being caught holding Hermione while they slept would be frowned upon in the Flamel household. He pounded his feather pillow restlessly. Dumbledore was away. Nicholas had drank nearly six bottles of wine at dinner. Perenelle might forgive them if they were caught and they told her the truth.

That decided him.

Within moments he was padding silently down the hall to Hermione's room. Her bed looked like a giant man-eating marshmallow with all the soft blankets and frills. Everything but the sheets were shoved to one side and she was mumbling in her sleep.

"Harry! No! He's going to…no, no Tonks! Remus, look out!" She took in a shuddering breath and whimpered. "Dumbledore's dead, did Malfoy kill him?"

Tom's eyes widened. Would Abraxas kill Dumbledore then? She whimpered again, a high, keening sound. He slid into bed and she stilled when she felt his arms wrap around her. She didn't wake, but she snuggled into him in her sleep, sighed, and smiled a little. "Tom."

He buried his face in her wild hair and allowed the rhythm of her breathing to lull him into sleep.

He awoke sometime later…really no way to know how long…Hermione was thrashing.

"Tom…Tom…run. RUN! He's coming, he's coming…Tom, he's coming for you." His wand was in his hand instantly and he cast a bright lumous…only to realize she was dreaming again.

He shook her a little. She came awake instantly, wand in hand, pointed at his head.

"Hermione."

She lowered her wand when she saw him but pointed it at the room, wild eyed.

"Voldemort…we have to go…the death eaters…" Even as she said the words, her tone faltered.

Tom pulled her into his arms, all irritation gone. Now he had names. The people who had destroyed her life. Yes, they had also led her to him…but he was certain they would have met in any lifetime. And he was far more furious at the fact they caused her pain than he was grateful for them landing her in the orphanage. What sort of idiots called themselves 'Death Eaters'? Well, he'd feed them their own deaths. He had a goodly number of deadly curses collected now. It was amazing what even light spells could do with enough ill intent added.

Hermione eventually stopped shaking. Tom kissed her head. "Who is Voldemort? And the Death Eaters?" He lowered his voice. "And where do we find them?"

Hermione hugged him quickly. "You don't. Voldemort is gone. My friend, Harry, killed him. He died doing it."

"Not much of a wizard if he could be killed by a little boy."

Hermione shrugged. "He was very powerful, he knew more about the dark arts than maybe any wizard alive. But everyone has an Achilles heel…Harry happened to be Voldemort's."

She turned her head, drained from dreaming and Tom held her close, despite the clammy feeling of her skin. He pulled another blanket over her as the night air chilled them.

"Do you think you could go back to sleep?"

She sighed. "I'd rather not. Tonight wasn't very restful."

"How many people did you lose? Besides your parents? You were talking about others."

She sighed. "Too many. I'd really rather talk about something else Tom…"

He sighed. "Alright. It's early, but we could hit the library."

She vacillated, wanting his company but clearly uncomfortable with the idea of costing him sleep."You could go back to sleep."

"Not without you." He reassured her. "I don't sleep well when you aren't close."

"I need to find a spell gives light only to the person reading the book. Scores of married couples would appreciate it."

"And teens who want to read past their bedtime. Let's go work that out." He took her hand, and they tossed on robes so that they could raid the library.

 **PFPFPFPFPF**

Perenelle found them there, sitting in the floor in the lemon-yellow light of dawn. In robes with socks pulled on to ward off the chill from the receding night. Piles of notes between them, murmuring soft words between them. Dumbledore had the idea that they needed to be watched rather closely because he was quite afraid that Miss Granger would end up pregnant before the end of her schooling. Perenelle had a fairly good eye for young lovers (having been one several times herself.) Nicholas was her third husband after all, a fact that was often forgotten in the History books.

Tom and Hermione didn't look like lovers. There was something off in their interactions, something oddly mature about both of them that caused her to evaluate and reevaluate. Dumbledore hadn't spared the Flamels the details about what had been going on in that orphanage. That would account for anyone's maturity. Even if they were safe themselves, having that many of the children around them abused was bound to affect how they reacted to things…

And Hermione was a separate kettle of fish. If Tom was a mature child that was quickly becoming a young man, Hermione was the least child-like child Perenelle had ever encountered. Her parents must have been very odd ducks indeed. She had all the hallmarks of being an only child, but more…if Dumbledore hadn't hit her with a thieves' mirror to reverse enchantments and disguises, Perenelle would have.

Hermione…the girl seemed like a responsible adult stuck in the body of a child. Her magic wasn't fully mature, and she seemed slightly put out about that, as if she _expected_ it to be. Her spells always seemed to overreach her power slightly, as if she was used to another body.

Perenelle had tested her for possession during the stay. No sign of it at all. There was only one soul in that body, and no sign of the darkest soul magics…there were some seeds of darkness there…actually more than Perenelle had anticipated if the girl was not possessed, but when you considered that everyone she loved had been killed and she'd been dumped in that hellhole of an orphanage…she had the right to be angry.

But neither Tom nor Hermione ever let that anger show. Their faces were pleasant; they were dutiful when adults asked anything of them. They obviously truly loved learning and pursued it in a way that would please the hardest task master, but Perenelle had a feeling that they did it for their own purpose. There was nothing wrong with that per se.

And there was the fact that Gellert Grindlewald was aware of the two of them. That made things a bit awkward. Gellert would undoubtedly adore the two brilliant children, and would quickly turn their talents to his own use. They'd make lovely mascots while they were training and were young enough to be brainwashed to his cause, if you used them against each other. It was quite clear that you could control one by threatening the other…of course then you ran the risk of them turning against you. They might only be going into their third year at Hogwarts, but Perenelle had a feeling that crossing either of them in that way would lead to anyone's eventual death.

She wondered if they'd continue to pursue the idea of the philosopher's stone when they realized what it really meant…it was part of the process that one had to understand certain truths if one was to complete the task…mathematically there was no other way to do so. She'd been dying when she and Nicholas had reached that point in their calculations. There was a price for everything, and the price for immortality was steep. She watched them as they discussed some new spell in the morning light and she smiled. No matter what they chose eventually, now they needed a good breakfast and some entertainment away from their books. There were merfolk in the lake nearby. Perhaps that would be interesting enough to lure them away from their work.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione agreed to the outing when Perenelle mentioned the Merfolk. She knew a bit of mermish, but she'd never encountered an enclave beyond the one in the lake at Hogwarts and the much more warlike Merfolk in the oceans around Great Britain. She frowned. What year had that uprising taken place? She'd been in her fifties when the Merpeople had attacked the ports over the Muggle dumping in the oceans. Not that Hermione could blame them, but it had been a headache to obliviate half the country, and tales of mermaids had persisted to the point where they were the prevailing fad even when Hermione died, many years later. Another little project then. A way to deal with waste that was clean and efficient that even Muggles could use…or a company that pretended to use Muggle means while taking care of the problem magically would be the easiest way. But the number of people she'd have to confound without the proper Muggle science behind it…

"Hermione" Tom's voice broke into her thoughts, and she had the impression he'd been trying to get her attention for some time. She gave him an apologetic smile. "Remind me later that I want to find a way to keep Muggles from dumping garbage into the oceans and disturbing the Merpeople there." Tom simply nodded, well aware of her thought processes.

Perenelle laughed lightly. "That's worthy task. Few wizards want to make garbage their life's work."

"Not my life's work, just a little project. Muggle dumping is increasing, and the oceanic merpeople are more warlike than their lake dwelling cousins. The moment I considered the situation I knew that a clash between the two is inevitable if wizards don't step in, but the problem is of course trying to do so without alerting someone to the use of magic. On the other hand, muggles pay quite well to take care of garbage so if I can use a plausible excuse, I can turn a tidy profit."

Perenelle blinked three times. "I can see why the hat put you in Slytherin dear. Doing things for one reason is all well and good, but having three? Only Slytherins manage it with any regularity."

With that comment, the witch hustled them out to the lake. Nicholas was sitting in the sun, enjoying a small breakfast and his books. Perenelle smiled. "Nicholas will be along later. My poor husband has never been a morning person."

Hermione shook her head. The foremost alchemist of his or any other time, and he spent eternity on his porch with a book! Of course, in his 700 years, he'd probably done everything worth doing at least once.

Did she want that? It had been hard enough to live longer than most of her friends the first time. Of course, each stage of life had its annoyances and joys, but would she truly want to stop at once place?

She thought about Harry and Ron. They'd be born eventually if the time line wasn't altered too much. Or their bodies would be…would they still have the souls of champions if there was no need for them?

The whole thing made Hermione's head spin.

Harry had died when he faced Voldemort…he'd just chosen to come back. She now assumed that had been Champion magic.

And what if she did die before she'd finished her work with Tom? As they walked down to the lake, Hermione reviewed the situation. Tom had different allies this time around. Most f them were adults. Dumbledore had a different attitude toward him and that helped, but they needed her as a buffer rather badly. Albus was not good with people honestly. The Flamels were nice, but Tom wasn't attached to them in any way. He liked them well enough, but she didn't sense a bond. In fact, the only deepish friendship he'd made was with Abraxas. Tom hadn't felt much need to bond with the boys in his own year. Nott would make a decent ally. Odin was a scrawny, clumsy boy, but he seemed to be an alright sort. Perhaps she could bring him into their circle along with Minerva…Abraxas would be a seventh year and no doubt he would be head boy. Tom would need more friends in the next few years. There were no other strong Slytherins ahead of them so it would be a simple matter for the two of them to lead the snakes in their fourth year. The Gryffindors were interested in Quidditch (as was often the case) and the 'Puffs were busy with their own projects. The only house that might give them issues were the Ravenclaws.

The merfolk must have seen Perenelle coming, because several of the younger members of the tribe swam up to the surface. Their high screeching cries twisted in the air. Their voices were quite lovely under water, but in the air, they were like nails on a chalk board.

"Would you children like to take a swim? These young warriors from the Shell tribe promise that no ill would befall you in their lake."

Hermione had an idea. "You wouldn't happen to have some gillyweed would you?"

Perenelle clapped her hands together excitedly. "That's a fine idea!" The alchemist summoned a few leafy looking bits of the weed from her stores. "Here you are children! Eat up. You'll have about an hour, so set a timer for forty minutes. I'll just amble back to the cottage. Come up when you finish."

Tom eyed the plant dubiously, but he took it and chewed. Hermione winced a bit at the taste. She'd forgotten how terribly fishy it tasted. Perhaps this was a bit stronger?

She felt the change and dove into the water, enjoying the feeling of it on her skin.

The merfolk watched the change with interest. There were three males and two females. The leader was male and he smiled at her. "I speak some English."

She replied in his own language "I have some small knowledge of mermish."

Tom gave her a look as he entered the water. He looked like a young shark, at home in his element. The merfolk watched him as well. There was something predatory about his movements, even in this form…or perhaps especially in this form. He didn't know how to hide what he was in the water. The young merman backed away from her gracefully, watching Tom as he did so.

"Come. We will show you some interesting sights in our lake."

They did not take them to their village. This act was not lost on Hermione. It was an acknowledgement of how dangerous Tom looked to them. They didn't want him around their old or their young. Instead, they were shown a pretty garden of brightly colored kelp, an area were shells had been strung to sway in the mild currents, and an interesting underwater cave with bioluminescent worms.

She was examining one of the worms when the young merman swam closer to her. Tom was slightly distracted with figuring out what the worms were living on as they didn't seem to have any openings at all.

"The young man with you…he is not your kind."

She turned her head, hair floating in the water like her own personal jungle. "What do you mean?"

"You are not…like him. There is gentleness in you. He is…other. Like a snake in human form. Be wary of him."

She looked into his eyes, knowing he sincerely wanted nothing but to warn her about her companion.

And still being furious about it.

She hissed, "Take us back."

The merman blinked his clear second eyelid over his eyes repeatedly, indicating aggression or fear. He said something too quickly in Mermish for her to follow and she grabbed Tom's hand. She told him with her eyes that they needed to go, and he followed, but he correctly deduced that the young merman had said something to upset her.

As they neared the surface, she kept Tom's hand in her own. She looked the young merman in the eye for a moment. Her irritation had cooled during the swim. She said in mermish "May your enemies down in their own tears and die on dry land." Coming from a land dweller, it was a clear indication that she wished him no harm.

The merpeople nodded. It was a traditional expression after all. The young merman swam to the front of the group. "May your enemies die on dry land."

By not repeating the other part of the phrase, he showed that he wasn't certain she was not an enemy to the merpeople. In effect, he was telling her to keep her troubles on dry land. She grinned at him, and it wasn't nice. "To be honest, I'd rather my enemies would just stay out of my way."

The young merman laughed, startled by her cheeky reply, and shook his long hair. "Be well."

She took this much more gracious farewell with a nod. "And you as well."

With that, she and Tom broke the surface. They were forced to tread water for a few minutes as the gillyweed slowly wore off.

She was sore as the effects of all that swimming made her aware that this body was much more fragile than her original model.

Tom helped her out of the water. "What was that?"

She gave him a smile, but didn't even pretend. "They were aware that you are…dangerous for lack of a better word. The one merman took it into his head to warn me."

Tom frowned, and then his expression changed. "I suppose you gave them an earful."

"I let them know how things are."

He took her in his arms, despite the fact that they were both soaking. Even in the sun, the air off the lake was chilly. Hermione surmised that they must be on a mountain somewhere; she wasn't sure where, as they'd never been told where the Flamel's home was located. She cast a drying charm on both of them, excluding her hair. The charm always made it frizz and she didn't want to spend the rest of the day looking like a poodle that had licked a light socket.

She turned to head back to the cottage, but Tom pulled her back and kissed her like he was trying to crawl into her bones through her mouth. Eventually, she pushed him back, laughing. "Air, Tom…I need air!"

He kissed her lips, smiling. "We'll have to figure out a charm for that as well…"

Her brows lifted. "What, perhaps increase the efficiency of anaerobic respiration in humans?"

He chuckled against her lips, muscles under her fingertips moving in a way that made her wish, just a little, that they were older.

He kissed her again. "C'mon. I will bet you a sickle that Perenelle will feed us when we get back to the cottage."

She smiled fondly at him. "I never be on a sure thing."

 **TRTRTRTR**

Tom put a hand on the small of her back and steered her away from the lake. He cast a glance back and saw the young merman looking at him, head above the water, fathomless eyes watching.

Tom shot him a dark look. He'd known they were being watched of course, so he'd shown the fish people how things were between them, in case there was doubt. She was his. The merman sank into the lake as Tom watched. One thing was certain: Hermione was never going in that lake again. With his luck, that ruddy merman would decide she was his and Tom would have to kill him. Not an entirely unpleasant idea, except for the part where there other male put his finned fingers on Hermione.

The merfolk weren't wrong about him after all. He was dangerous. Especially where she was concerned.


	19. Chapter 19

Steam swirled around them as Tom and Hermione hurried to catch the trains. Tom pulled off some fairly impressive wand work as he slid both of their trunks into the baggage car. A polyjuiced Dumbledore had brought them to the station, but a nasty bit of trouble had delayed them. Two wizards with thick mustaches and even thicker accents had descended on the children in the alley, thinking they were young and protected only by the muggle caretaker who had unknowingly donated one of his scant hairs to the polyjuice potion.

The force of the stunners cracked the brick on the wall, and within minutes the unconscious men were bound and Dumbledore was apparating with them.

As Hermione breathlessly looked for a carriage, she whispered to Tom, "Want to bet he questions them before they go to the Ministry?"

Tom smirked, "If it were me, they'd never make it to the Ministry at all."

Hermione ran straight into a large form because she was laughing at Tom's comment…it couldn't really be called a joke…

"Pardon me…" She looked up and up and…

"No 'arm done Miss. Though that mus' have been somthin' awfully funny. I'm hard to miss, if I do say so meself." She was looking into the round face of a first year Hagrid.

She grinned up at him. "You are at that. My name is Hermione Granger, and my friend is Tom Riddle. We're third years, Slytherin."

The boy nodded sheepishly. "My name's Hagrid…Rubeus Hagrid, but no one ever calls me that except me da."

Tom was eyeing the boy thoughtfully. Hermione obviously liked him so he gave him a charming smile. "We're just looking for a carriage…"

"I have one to meself at the moment."

Hermione looked at Tom hopefully, but the voice of Abraxas cut into their conversation.

"Hermione! Tom! Naughty children. I swear, one of these days you are going to give me a heart attack. You almost missed the train." He was glaring. They could feel the slight jerk as the train started chugging along. Their entrance was cutting it fine indeed.

Hermione walked to him and gave him a hug. "I missed you over the summer too Malfoy. Meet Hagrid…he's a first year."

Abraxas' eyes widened. "Really?" He looked the boy up and down, assuming (correctly) that he had giant blood. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. We'll be watching to see where you are sorted!" With that cheery farewell Abraxas herded Tom and Hermione back to his empty carriage. Hermione looked around and raised a brow. Being alone was not something the blond enjoyed. Abraxas slid the door closed and put up a number of mild but effective spells to guarantee privacy.

"I wanted to chat with the two of you before we got to school." He pointed his wand at the little basket he always brought on the train. A sumptuous feast arranged itself on a folding table (that unfolded itself from the basket) complete with tiny crystal cups and small silver cutlery.

Hermione didn't touch the food until the older boy sat. His hair was long now, reminding her even more of Lucius. His harried expression looked more like Draco in sixth year though…a fact which did not give her a warm fuzzy feeling.

"Hermione, I know my mother mentioned to you that my great-grandmother grandmother was in Bulgaria. We've finally heard from her. She sent an owl at the beginning of summer."

"That's brilliant Abraxas!"

He gave her a little grin. "It is, and it isn't. She's apparently leading a force of freedom fighters now and she wanted Mother to be certain to guard us. Once it is commonly known that's she's standing against Grindelwald, the family will be in jeopardy." He ran a hand through his locks. Hermione suppressed a twinge of envy. The man's hair was outrageously pretty. "We have good wards so, I'm not worried much about us. However, Grandmother seems to think that the two of you have caught his attention somehow. And when I tried to owl you over the summer the letter came back, like you were off the map. So I assume that's true: why else would two children who normally live in an orphanage be somewhere unplotable?"

Hermione nodded and smiled at him. "Do you really call your grandmother that?"

"What?"

"Oh you know…the full on 'Grandmother'. Seems a bit formal."

His blond brows drew together in confusion. "And what should I call her?"

"Nanny, Grams, Nana, Mimi…"

Abraxas winced. "She would no longer _be_ a grandmother because she would murder me. She's a formidable witch."

"Not the cookie baking type?"

"I doubt she'd ever set foot in a kitchen before Grindelwald burned her estate to the ground. But she's well able to survive…"

She patted his arm and smiled at having successfully deflected the blond . "I'm certain of that."

Unfortunately, she'd celebrated too soon.

"I'm worried about the two of you. Have you any idea how you attracted his notice? You're both talented of course, but…"

Tom caught Abraxas' eye and shook his head with a significant look toward Hermione. Abraxas cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable, remembering the tale Tom had spun about Hermione's parents. "I see." He paused, and obviously fought against his first instinct (which was to get more detail, Abraxas was the worst gossip in school). "I won't breathe a word of course, but I insist that neither of you visit Hogsmead this year. Anything you require from the village can be brought back."

Tom looked sour but resigned. Hermione didn't care, but there was no reason to waste the opportunity to do some meddling of her own.

"I'm going to Hogsmead. I won't let Grindlewald's threat stop me."

Abraxas looked horrified. "Hermione, the village isn't protected. You can't just expect to wander around alone…"

"I'll have Tom with me."

"Even so…"

"And of course, I'm sure you will be there…you did get the position as head boy didn't you?"

He smirked. "Was there ever any doubt?"

"Not really. But with you and Tom there, I don't see why I should worry about Grindelwald."

The boys looked a little bit pleased and very, very nervous.

"After all, it isn't _my_ grandmother that's leading the rebel alliance." She had to keep herself from giggling about a joke that wouldn't make sense to anyone else for decades. Oh dear…she really was a long way from home. Her sadness leaked out to her face. Tom wrapped an arm around her and Abraxas could see the change in their body language immediately. She watched him process the change but not comment. She could see why Lord Voldemort had recruited the young Malfoy heir to his side. She was on the fence about taking him closer into their confidence. At the moment, the two of them were firmly on the same side…and having known him for several years, she didn't think he would actually refuse her if she announced her blood status. Abraxas was more practical than that.

"I'll stay away from Hogsmead if you do the same. Final offer." Abraxas opened his mouth.

His response to her cheek would have to wait because a small, black haired witch opened the door with a well placed charm to counter Abraxas' privacy wards. Hermione grinned as Minerva flung herself into her friend's arms. "Hermione! I haven't heard from you all summer!"

Hermione petted the girl whispering soothing things. Abraxas looked half-annoyed and half-intrigued. "Sorry, I didn't have any ready cash for Muggle post. Did you enjoy your holiday? How are your brothers?"

"Driving mum insane. They're seven and eight so they're going through a rough patch when it comes to accidental magic. The Ministry keeps having to show up and obliviate the neighbors."

"I'm surprised your mother doesn't simply take these things into her own hands." Abraxas was grumpy because their plotting session had been interrupted, but relived that Hermione hadn't backed him into a corner about Hogsmead. She gave him a look that let the blong know that the discussion wasn't over.

Minerva looked a bit sad. "Mum doesn't use magic anymore." She brightened, then added, "But she talked dad into letting me go to Hogwarts, and the boys too, though he's a bit annoyed that neither of him will be able to follow him into the church."

Hermione saw Abraxas' mouth thin. The idea of a witch giving up her magic horrified him. Tom had the same look on his face as well.

She pulled Minerva into a warm hug. "Go get your things and sit in here with us."

She looked like she had been offered tea with the queen."Can I really?"

Hermione laughed. "If you can take down Abraxas' privacy wards going into second year, you are witch enough to sit here. I see you have a new wand."

Minerva brandished it proudly. "Aye. I dare those Ravenclaws to come at me this year."

With the she bounded out of the carriage with Hermione looking fondly after her. Tom sighed. She turned to him, but he smiled. "You're going to adopt them all for the rest of our lives aren't you?"

"What? You mean attract talented people into my circle of influence? I thought I might, I like good company."

Abraxas laughed and sat down on the other side of Hermione. He put a careless arm over the back of the seat. Tom glared at the head boy. "Don't you need to patrol the train or something?"

Malfoy gave him a pleasant, nearly angelic smile. "Don't be absurd. I bribed the other prefects to do my rounds at the end of last year! Worked out marvelously. I deplore tedium."

"Then you won't have to patrol in Hogsmead either."

It was startling how often Hermione got the last word.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Once Hermione was firmly ensconced at her table in the library with her little Gryffindor mascots (she'd picked up Hagrid as well as Minerva) he took himself to the section on genealogy. Could it be possible that he was, himself a mudblood? He couldn't find any record of anyone with the surname of Riddle ever entering Hogwarts. He'd also searched for his mother's people, though he very much doubted that she had been a witch. Unless of course, something had happened to her…like Minerva's mother. He wasn't certain why a witch would choose not to do magic. Was it possible that pregnancy sapped the magic? Could that be why pregnant students were not allowed in Hogwarts? He'd heard rumors of no less than three young witches that had been led away in disgrace. Their paramours however were never expelled, and heavy petting and even sex in the many nooks and crannies of the castle was expected, if not encouraged. Married students were not allowed to reside at the school either.

No records of anyone in the last two hundred years named Marvolo could be found on the Hogwarts ledgers. He went back to the table, momentarily defeated.

"Why so glum Tom?" He didn't want to talk about his research into his family with others around. So he gave her the charming smile that was his 'blank' face. And lied.

"I was hoping they'd have a book that wasn't in. Nothing to get upset over." He turned to Hagrid and changed the subject. "So young lion, what subject do you fancy?"

Hagrid immediately launched into an ecstatic description of every beast he'd ever encountered…and a frankly alarming number of them were dangerous, even though he was only eleven years old. Tom shot Hermione a worried glance when the boy was distracted by Minerva discussing the creature in Loch Ness. She gave him a confident, indulgent smile that worried him a great deal more than Hagrid's pets.

She pretended to notice the time. "You lot better get back to your tower. You have a big day tomorrow."

The two lions bid her a fond goodnight. She watched them as they left and smiled at Tom. "What were you really looking for?"

"You're spending too much time with Gryffindors; their bluntness is wearing off on you."

She laughed more than he thought the joke deserved, something about it tickled that place in her brain that she never let him enter. He hated that place. His only consolation was that she didn't seem to spend much time there either.

He pulled her into a darker corner, away from prying eyes and kissed her lightly. He intended to be prefect next year so he couldn't afford to get caught in any rule breaking…otherwise he'd tell them all to go hang and kiss her senseless in the middle of the great hall. He found he rather liked that mental image and deepened the kiss.

Sometime later, she pulled away, panting lightly. "Merlin Tom…I know I've mentioned that whole breathing issue to you before. Air is necessary."

He kissed her nose. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

She made a sound that was nearly a purr. He had a fair idea that her animagus form was going to be something with paws.

"I won't then. What were you really looking for?"

"I was looking for my family."

He wasn't prepared for the closed, nearly angry look on her face. He cocked his head to the side. Her face cleared, but there was still a tightness in her shoulders.

"You know I'd never leave you behind."

She smiled fondly and cupped his face. "If you had a choice. I don't worry about that as much though. We live at school most of the year."

"What do you worry about?"

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Too many things. So did you find anything?"

He allowed her that less than subtle change of subject. If she hadn't been so good at plotting, she would have made a very good Gryffindor herself.

"Nothing at all. It's frustrating." She tried to hide the relief flooding her eyes, but he could see. Rather than be irritated that she wasn't wholly for this idea, he felt a warm rush of affection. His little witch was possessive as well. She didn't want to share him with anyone. That was good. He liked that about her.

She took her pile of books, nodded to the librarian and they walked down to the dungeons.

Xavier Mulciber and Henrick Rosier (both sixth years) had Malfoy cornered on the couch. "He's obviously a half-giant Malfoy. You know it, and we know it. You can't let that kind of trash into a school for wizards." Abraxas winced as he saw Hermione come in.

"Now Henrick, Hogwarts has always allowed any half-human that could wield a wand in. He's obviously half, just as you said. Which means it's likely that he's half pureblood as well. You know that a certain subset of wizards have an active…" He looked at Hermione and cleared his throat. "Well, it happens."

Rosier noted Hermione's presence and tossed a snide look at her. "If you are referring to the Giantess owned brothel, why don't you just say so Malfoy? It isn't if she's some purebred debutant we have to indulge. Your little pet might well want to know about possible employment opportunities after Hogwarts."

Mulciber hadn't said a word, but the spells that hit Rosier managed to wing him as well. There were a few nasty hexes and a burning curse from Tom that left them both screaming as they hung by their ankles in the air.

Malfoy tucked his wand away with an urbane smile. "I don't believe I know that levitation spell Hermione. Clever that. And nonverbal at your age!" He praised her while Rosier sank from screams to muted moans. Tom's wand was still out, and the look in his eyes wasn't something she wanted people to see. She held his left hand, the one that didn't have his wand. He turned to her. "I think we should tie them up and leave them in the Forbidden Forest overnight. Perhaps something will do the world a favor and eat them."

Hermione shook her head. "I think, since the offence is mine, then technically I get to decide."

Abraxas inclined his head. "One of these days I'll lure the two of you to dueling club."

Hermione, who had memorized _Dueling Through the Ages_ sent him a cheeky grin. "I think I have the gist of it." She gave the boys a hard look. "I should leave you in the hall for the caretaker to find. I think hanging by your thumbs might be character-building in your case." She frowned, trying to see beyond the nasty personalities but was unable to. "Someone take them to the hospital wing." She turned around and grabbed the mass of tentacles that was Rosier's hair. It felt like dolphin skin. She wondered if Malfoy would teacher her that jinx.

She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "If you even think too loudly in my direction, I'll challenge you in front of the entire school, and I swear to Merlin I will not hold back." She let the icy calm seep into her words, the tone that she'd used during the war. The boy responded to it. Rosier and Mulciber had been death eaters in the original timeline, but they were impotent bullies without a leader. And their leader had snogged her senseless in the library before this nasty incident.

She jerked his head back and nonverbally ended the spell holding the boys in the air. They tumbled to the ground, and didn't break their stupid necks. Pity really. She snarled, "Someone take them to the hospital wing."

A few of the boys that were friendly with the jinxed lumps eyed each other nervously, Rosier's younger brother, a fourth year, started forward unwillingly, but two of the second years who seemed to want to impress their elders jumped up and levitated the boys out of the dungeon.

Tom wrapped an arm around her and led her to the door of her dorm. "I wish I could hold you tonight."

She put her forehead on his and closed her eyes. "A little put down like that doesn't bother me Tom. I've had much worse. Of course, it had to be answered because those two are the kind who will push further if you ignore their bad manners."

Abraxas chose that moment to bound up to them and put an arm around each. "Quite right. I was thinking of challenging Rosier to a duel myself. The unofficial sort of course."

Hermione gave him a nasty sort of grin. "Absolutely not. If anyone gets the pleasure of trouncing that little cockroach in public, it should be me. It might be just the thing actually, since you are graduating this year and some of the Slytherins seem to think that Tom and I are only protected by your patronage." She grinned. "Probably best to prove them wrong before you leave so we don't have to bother with this next year."

Tom gave her a feral grin. "What did you have in mind?"

 _ **AN: I am sorry this is so late! I have additional obligations in the evenings right now…I promise that I will do everything in my power to update at least once a week, and I will update more often if possible. We're still trending toward 100,000 words on this story so we're at the halfway mark, more or less.**_

 _ **Hope you are enjoying it! I know I am.**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**AN: Remember at the first chapter when I said there would be violence in this story? This chapter is a good example of why there's a warning and an M rating! (Before my shippers get excited, remember, Tom and Hermione are about 13-14 at this point in the story (this is set after September 19**_ _ **th**_ _ **and before Tom's birthday). I can promise one thing in this story…if there is any graphic smut, it will be AFTER everyone is legal. At least in the wizarding world.**_

 _ **This M rating in this chapter is for fantasy violence, mentions of violence, and torture. All mistakes are mine and anything you recognize belongs to JKR.**_

Hermione chewed her breakfast serenely while the Slytherin table quietly exploded around her with gossip.

She seemed to take no notice of it. An owl dropped a letter on her plate and she opened it with her wand, neat as you please.

Tom hid a grin. He had his own air of ease to project and grinning like a madman wouldn't help.

He bit into a sausage and chewed it thoughtfully. "Was that from Olivander?"

She nodded. "He finally got back to me about his great-grandmother. She was a Ravenclaw of course; most of that family has been in house of the Eagle. Bit odd really. Eagles are spirits of the air in Chinese legend…and if we were using the old English version, the four houses would stand for the four elements…and Ravenclaw would be the area of air…color of blue…I really think that's too close to coincidence."

Tom nodded, thinking of the books the Flamels had let them read. "That would make Huffelpuff Earth, Gryffindor Fire, and Slytherin Water?"

She nodded excitedly, forgetting her air of casual indifference about the upcoming duel with Rosier. After all, this was a new theory and the duel was really a foregone conclusion.

"The colors even match…a phoenix might be a better choice for fire, but I suppose the founders couldn't resist the play on Godric's name."

Tom grimaced. As a rule, Gryffindors annoyed him.

Hermione didn't slow down. "So taking that into account when studying alchemy…it changes some of the essential trials…"

Tom nodded, "Only if you agree that in place of the elements themselves you need to place a characteristic from each house…or are the trials doubled? Could they actually be both physical and philosophical at the same time?"

"I'd say you try with the base element first, it's one of the cardinal rules after all, physical is more base than mental…but wait…does that mean that there are four meanings to this as well?"

"Or three. Four elements, three levels…makes the number seven."

She looked at him in wonder…and something else. "Merlin, you are right!"

He smirked. "Not Merlin…just close."

She swatted at him. Then she rolled her eyes and groaned. "Do you realize how much more _work_ this is going to be?"

 **TRTRTRTR**

They were still arguing lightly about it when they showed up for the duel.

"I think that translation of _Corpus Hermeticum_ is a bit off." Hermione was barely paying attention as they walked into the room. Rosier was growling from the corner.

She put her things down in a corner and continued. "I think the _The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistu_ s actually backs up the idea of the trinity…and according to Isaac Newton.."

Tom cut in "Newton was a Squib…"

Hermione countered with "It doesn't make his theories less valid."

Abraxas wandered up to them and smiled. "I believe, my young serpents, that you have a small matter to attend to before you can resume this fascinating discussion." His tone let Tom know that he was at least somewhat aware of their line of research. It didn't bother him as much as it once would have. They were yards ahead of anyone else looking for a way to make the stone. It would be difficult to catch up, even with Malfoy's wealth.

Hermione looked slightly put out, but she turned her attention to Rosier. Mulciber was his second, and Lucius was along to make sure things stayed 'friendly'. His phrase…certainly not Tom's.

Pluto Rosier was a tall man…well-muscled, with excellent reflexes and a sure knowledge of the darker side of magic.

Tom didn't show it, but he was a tad bit worried for Hermione. She was bright…Merlin she was bright. But he wasn't certain that she had the raw power and reflexes to take on someone like Rosier in a proper duel.

She didn't back down though…he had to give her that. She looked very small and young. Not even the billowy school robes did much to add to her size.

Abraxas looked unconcerned. "Very well…official rules via the 1876 decision of course…"

Rosier huffed. "I want Nuremburg rules."

The blond gave him a withering look. "Want all you like, you won't be getting them. Bit difficult to explain to even Dippet if Hermione followed the letter of the Nuremburg rules and skinned your face for a trophy."

Rosier sneered "You are just here to make sure she wins then?"

"I'm here to make sure whoever wins is known amongst the Slytherins."

Hermione took her place and let out a great sigh. "Is there any way we could hurry this along? I have experiments that I want to do later."

Rosier gave her a lecherous glance. "You're almost old enough to experiment with."

Tom turned his head, considering. There weren't _that_ many good places in Hogwarts to hide a body, but surely he could improvise.

Hermione had the temerity to laugh. It was a free thing, the sound of a woman who was truly amused. She shot him a grin. "You know, for a moment, I thought about going easy on you…just to spare your pride a bit." She turned to Abraxas.

Her voice was like steel. "Moderator and seconds to the side please."

Mulciber looked like he wanted to slink off anywhere else. It didn't matter to Tom. If you could hide one body, surely finding room for two wouldn't be that hard. A little creative transfiguration and people wouldn't even notice. The real problem was finding a place where it wouldn't be hit with a finante…

The two bowed and curses and hexes filled the air. Tom and Abraxas had shield spells in place but Mulciber went down without a sound as Hermione hexed Rosier with a barrage of wicked wand work.

Tom found himself getting physically aroused in public for the first time in his life. Merlin! She was magnificent. She played dirty from the start and never let up. Half of the curses were illegal, and some of them were things she must have invented because he'd never heard of them.

Rosier never stood a chance.

Hell, a grown Auror would have had a hard time. Her style was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It reminded him a bit of how muggles fought in the dirty dives of London…no rules…just fists and blood and teeth being spit onto the ground. And then she'd pull out something elegant like llemonic…a curse that wafted a choking mist into the eyes and face of the opponent. Three reductos later and even Tom was strengthening his shield.

When it was over, the wizard was disarmed, covered in boils and missing his robes (Hermione had charmed them to attack him as a final distraction…it had been brilliant.).

With Mulciber already down, there was little to do…they were in no danger of dying so they left them on the floor of the abandoned classroom.

Abraxas had a pensive look on his face.

Hermione quirked a brow as she picked up her books.

The blond smiled. "It's nothing. I just wish I'd invited a couple of other witnesses. When the others see this, I'm afraid they won't believe it…"

Tom shrugged. "Undersell it then. Just smirk and tell them she won. Leave it at that. Then when Rosier and Mulciber find their way to the hospital wing people will draw their own conclusions."

Hermione nodded. "That will do. I don't really want to have to babysit our house when you graduate, but someone has to. I certainly didn't want someone like Rosier taking the place, even for a year."

Abraxas smiled. "Well put. It needs to be someone who will continue to put the house first, above their petty rivalries, and who will uphold our unbroken streak of house cups..."

Tom cocked his head to the side and whispered to Hermione, "Two years is an unbroken streak?"

Abraxas sniffed. "It will be three if we win the Quidditch cup."

 **TRTRTR**

The first game of the season was Slytherin verses Gryffindor and the stands were packed with students, parents, and alumni.

Malfoy had been driving the team in a way that reminded Hermione sharply of Oliver Wood in his prime.

She thought Tom looked rather dashing in his green robes and black gear.

Across the pitch she saw the Gryffindors suiting up. Hagrid was rather unmistakable in the stands, but Minerva's tiny form was in scarlet robes on an older broomstick. They shot across the pitch like lightning, with Slytherin taking the quaffle twice in the early moments, only to be denied by the Gryffindor keeper once and a beater the second time.

The Gryffindors attacked, and Glenda Goyle proved her worth as Slytherin keeper and tossed the quaffel to Nott. Weedy he might be, but the boy stuck to his broom like a burr. He and Tom threaded their way through the traffic, dodging bludgers and chasers with Malfoy helpfully aiming the bludgers at any opposing member of the red team that came into range. Hermione was glad to see that Minerva was as light and maneuverable as Tom was. She dodged with ease.

"Ten Points for Slytherin!"

Hermione cheered with the rest of the crowd, coming off her seat. Her eyes turned skyward. She didn't see any sign of the snitch.

What she did see, nearly out of habit, was a man in red and gold colors who wasn't watching the game.

He moved furtively through the crowd as the stadium erupted in cheers once again. Hermione didn't wait. She rushed to follow him.

He was heading into the Slytherin dressing room. She pulled out her wand and cast a hasty invisibility charm.

He headed to Tom's cubby without searching so he had done his homework. She felt her teeth bear themselves as his hands ran over the boy's well-mended shoes. She wordlessly cast a full body bind on the bastard and then tied him securely.

She levitated him behind the stands and cast a neat circle of protective enchantments before she cast the countercharm for the body bind curse.

"I certainly hope you aren't one of Grindelwald's top men. Be a bit depressing if it was this easy." It was a shot in the dark, but it paid off when she saw him wince.

"Name?"

He stared at her, tight lipped and silent.

She leaned in and smiled nastily at him. No one touched Tom. It was her job to protect him. "You will be telling me everything you know. You can make it easy or hard, it doesn't matter much to me."

He smirked, but still said nothing.

She shrugged and slapped him….hard. Beginning with physical violence was good. He wouldn't have looked more shaken if she'd hit him with a codfish. Blood trickled down from his nose.

She smeared the blood across his lips.

"Name?"

He sat, tight lipped as ever. She pulled out her wand.

"You think a little girl frightens me?" His accent was thick, but perfectly understandable. She gave him her best smile.

"Probably not, but that goes to show that people are often afraid of things they shouldn't be afraid of…and forget to be afraid of things that are truly frightening."

The man tried to laugh at her, but her wand was suddenly cutting off his airway.

His eyes panicked while his body fought to breathe. She smiled again. She released the air. "Twenty seconds. That's really not that long, but it feels like an eternity doesn't it?" He was taking deep breaths, trying to get his heart to slow down. She knew. She hadn't learned this technique out of a book.

She traced his cheek with her wand, looking into his deep brown eyes. He was handsome enough, in that dark, brooding way Bulgarians were known for. She thought that the heavy beard he wore hid a bit of his good looks.

"Name?"

He glared at her, and she made him feel like his lungs were on fire…just for a second.

His eyes widened. He'd been prepared for lack of oxygen.

She smiled sweetly and hit him with a spell that made him feel like he was drowning…that terrible burning from being under water too long…

She leaned down and whispered, "Don't make me get creative. Answer my questions and I'll give you over to the ministry."

He looked at her incredulously. She smirked. "Trust me, they are by far the more enjoyable alternative."

She turned around. "Why were you at my boyfriend's locker?"

He grunted. "I was lost."

She hit him with a spell that made him feel like a madman. She left it on for a full minute.

He was wide eyed and sweating when she took it off. "I can tell when you are lying. I can also leave you under that spell indefinitely. No one knows the counter. I could hit you with it and leave and there would be nothing to link me and you."

He choked and pissed his pants. "Sergi…my name is Sergi."

Five minutes later she was the proud owner of a shoe very much like Tom's and every bit of information he had on Gridelwald (obviously it wasn't much; the tyrant had expected the man to be caught). The former Bulgarian soldier was on his way to immigrate to America, convinced that his lifelong dream was to introduce the New World to the joys of his mother's sausage recipe.

Tom and the rest of the Slytherin team strutted into view. He knew something was wrong the moment he saw her, and Abraxas followed.

Tom wiped a small streak of blood of her cheek. She shook her head. Then she put on her fake smile. "Did you win? I missed the last…"

Abraxas sighed. "You have no proper feeling for a good match! Of course we won!" His eyes didn't match his tone. She pulled Tom and Abraxas in for a hug and quietly told them "later".

 **TRTRTRTR**

He waited, but only because it was obvious the blood wasn't her own. She looked slightly spooked, but well enough physically.

She was waiting outside the dressing rooms for him. Alone.

He hissed, "Why didn't you go up to the castle?"

She frowned as the blond prefect came out, shower finished in record time, his lovely locks still dripping.

He put an arm around their necks. "Come! I have a special treat in the common room!"

He wasn't too loud, but anyone in the remaining crowd could testify that the three were heading to their common room for the expected victory party.

She pulled them into the first empty classroom she came to.

"We have a problem. Grindelwald tried to slip a portkey into Tom's cubby during the match." She held up the shoe.

Abraxas took a breath in through his teeth.

"A portkey would work on the grounds."

She nodded. "I know. And this one would have gone straight to Grindelwald. But the funny thing is that I don't think he expected this to actually work. Half of what the man _knew_ about Grindelwald was phony. He was a stooge, recruited simply to get in and drop this. If it worked, well then it was wonderful, if it didn't, it let everyone know he was stalking Tom."

Tom's voice was ice cold. "Except he's not stalking _me_. Where is this stooge?"

She dimpled. "On his way to America. He thinks it's his life's dream to open a sausage shop."

Abraxas and Tom stared. She sighed. "I'm very good with memory charms of all sorts. Why just obliviate when you can convince them they are a muggle and that they want to go to another continent?"

"Neat…not precisely legal…but very neat." There was a level of admiration that Abraxas had never shown for her before in his tone. She smiled.

Tom ran his thumb across her cheek where he'd seen the splattered blood. "I assume the blood was his?"

She snorted. "Every drop. As I said, he was a stooge. It was almost too easy to catch him."

"Any chance Grindelwald wanted him caught?"

"Every chance. But I think it was to send a message to Dumbledore."

Abraxas frowned. "Why him?"

Tom gave her a warning look. She left the thought that they should bring Abraxas closer into their circle in her head.

Tom hesitated a long moment, and then gave her a slight nod.

"Dumbledore is probably the only wizard alive who can beat Grindelwald at the moment."

Abraxas' eyes widened. "He's going to challenge him?"

Hermione shrugged. "They have to meet eventually. Neither has wanted to…they knew each other once. They were friends." Her voice dropped on the last part. She cleared her throat before the boys reacted.

"I think we're being targeted because we got in the way of an attack on Dumbledore."

Abraxas' brows snapped together."Not because of what happened to your parents?"

"That has no direct bearing on it. The prophesy that indirectly led to my parent's deaths has been fulfilled." She added a quelling note to the end of that speech. The time was coming when she'd either have to give them some pretty spectacular half-truths or gentle lies, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Why bring me in on this now?"

She sighed. "Because you have been our ally and friend since we began Hogwarts. Things may get more dangerous now. Perhaps not, since you've already been targeted as well…."

Tom smiled, and it was perfect. Exactly the kind of smile you'd want your most trusted friend to use. "You deserved to know either way." It was just the right thing to say as well.

Abraxas nodded, but he looked pleased.

"Well, now that the dirty deeds are done, it's time for the three of us to look fabulous at the victory party."

She rolled her eyes. Fresh from the showers, glowing from their win. They were lovely. Tom offered her and arm and she twined her own through it.

He raised a brow when Abraxas offered his arm as well.

He patted her hand in a comforting manner. "You never said darling…how did you get his blood on your face?"

She looked up at him. "How do you think I got the information?"

 _ **AN: There you go. Two updates in a week! I intend to update again this weekend.**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**AN: Another update for you! I need to thank everyone who left a review. I'm so pleased that so many people are enjoying this! I will try to update once during the week, but it will depend heavily on what comes up.**_

The mad hatter was dancing with the red queen and the white knight was talking backwards…

She was dreaming. As soon as she realized it, the air around her stilled.

Minerva McGonagall appeared, the adult version, looking much as she had when Hermione was eleven, except she was wearing the White Queen's gown. Hermione was larger as well. Her body felt right for the first time in ages. She was dressed in a poufy blue dress with a pinafore, complete with a hair band which did little (or nothing) to control her curls.

She smiled at Minerva as they walked down a path that suddenly appeared in the dreamscape. Tangled, foreboding trees lined either side, but the path itself was cheerful enough.

"You are cutting right and wrong awfully fine."

Hermione raised a brow. "Official visit is it? We the real you be looking up at me from the Gryffindor table at breakfast tomorrow?"

"The little girl _is_ the real me at this moment. And no, in dreams we can do what we cannot do in the daylight. We can remember ourselves for a moment. The energy around you is growing dark."

Hermione shrugged. "I was assigned a task. I am working on it. I've removed a number of threats so far and began building a safety net for him in case something happens to me."

Minerva nodded. "I can see that. 'Tis a good idea. But don't let his darkness change you."

Hermione snorted. "This isn't his darkness Minerva. This is mine. I feel like Bilbo Baggins…a bit stretched thin…"

"You have given much."

"And I will continue to. But this time I won't let anything interfere with getting the job done. I have been merciful to my enemies when I could afford to, but I'm fighting something larger than one man this time."

"You are. And the most dangerous part of the darkness is the lure of it."

Hermione could admit that, but it was annoying to get a metaphysical slap on the wrist from someone who was still in first year in this timeline.

Sometimes…she knew she shouldn't, but there was a part of her that longed to cross back over that thin veil between death and life. She was tired of struggling. Tired of war. She looked at the tangled woods around the path and part of her knew she could slip into those shadowed depths and not return to her body.

Minerva clutched her shoulder. "I dinna mean to make it worse."

Hermione was shaking. "I know. It doesn't change things." She took a shuddering breath. "How long am I expected to stay? I am tired Minerva…and this war has only barely begun for me. Once Grindelwald is defeated in a few years…"

The witch interrupted, "Don't assume he'll hold off simply because he did last time." Minerva's retort was sharp.

"I am changing things then."

Her former professor nodded grimly. "Aye. And this redirected path has every bit as much potential for darkness as it did the last time. Take one obstacle at a time. Get Dumbledore through his fight with Grindelwald…make certain he is victorious, and if you can keep him alive that's even better. Keep Tom close to you and too busy to form his Death Eaters. That alone will eliminate much of the harm he did."

Hermione sighed sadly. "And what of Tom? What of me for that matter? We'll each have a life to fill."

"You will."

Hermione laughed, and there was a tinge of bitterness to it. "And how will that go? Will it be one fight after another, always looking for the darkness creeping in?"

"Such is life…not just for Champions, but for everyone. It will seek to seduce you, and if it can not, it will try to chill your spirit. Make you yearn for death."

"Because that life sounds so appealing."

"Remember the good things."

Hermione felt rage bubbled over her mental defenses and out of her mouth."What…you mean like my friends and my husband? My children and grandchildren? They will never be in this timeline. Harry and Ron won't even know me."

"You are thinking in only three dimensions. Time is fluid; the body only houses the soul. You have the will to mould this world to your desires…if you only use it."

"And how should I use it?"

Minerva snorted. "Well, _do_ try not to become the next Dark Lord for starters. The health plan is shite. After that, fall in love, change the world, have a family. Be silly. Take long walks in the sunlight and eat chocolate."

Hermione sighed. "It's that simple hmmm? And how is Tom going to feel about me falling in love with someone other than him?"

"Did I say you had to fall for someone other than him?"

"No, but…"

"You can fall in love with anyone you want."

"But Tom…"

"He is your assignment. How you choose to go about taking care of him is up to you. Far be it from me to tell you that he is the right man for you if he doesn't make your pulse race or if his mind doesn't interest you…"

Hermione blushed and put her face in her hands. "Minerva, he's thirteen."

"And you are fourteen."

"But I'm not really. I'm nearly two hundred years old."

"Then wait until you are seventeen…or twenty-four. Or forty-six if you must."

"I'll always be nearly two hundred years older than he is."

"And his soul has lived generations as a champion, as has yours. At least you are closer in that way than you would be with an ordinary soul who has only had one go around. But again, the choice is yours to make. You can choose to really befriend him and treat him like a person that you might have a balanced relationship with someday. You can continue to treat him like a child that you have to watch every minute. You can indulge his possessive tendencies if you want, though personally, that would drive me bonkers…which that might well be why they sent you and not me. I can tell you that if you treat him like a burden and you'll never really connect with him and all of this will have been for naught."

Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes. "I'm doing the best I can." Minerva pulled her into a hug.

"There now. Don't repress that anger all the time. That will lead to you enjoying the torture of some of these dolts and that's terrible for your soul."

She hiccupped. "Am I doing so poorly that it awakened your champion-self?"

"No child! You've done marvelously so far. 'Tis no easy task you were set. But you know a pinch of prevention is worth a pound of cure. You were enjoying the dark a bit much so I thought I'd visit."

"I'm glad you did. Just having someone to talk to…"

"You are shutting yourself off from your allies as well."

"I keep making stupid mistakes. Someone is going to realize I'm not from this time…and then…"

Minerva cut off her worried rant. "And if they mention it people will think they are mad. There's nothing that can prove it and there's never been anything like you in all of history."

Hermione felt herself drifting closer wakefulness, like the moment before you break the surface of the water. Minerva smiled kindly. "Don't be too hard on yourself Hermione. You are a Champion of the light. That doesn't mean you are perfect all the time and you never make a questionable decision. It means that over many lifetimes, you've consistently chosen the side of light. Be yourself. That's all you need to do."

And then she turned into the Cheshire Cat, gave Hermione a half-moon smile, and disappeared.

Hermione woke, wondering how much of that was a dream and how much of it was her mind talking to itself.

 **HGHGHG**

"Who pissed in your porridge Granger?"

She glared at Copernicus Rosier, the younger brother of Pluto. They hadn't been on bad terms before she'd trounced his brother. Then again, they hadn't precisely been on good terms either. Pluto Rosier and Mulciber had crawled into the hospital wing the day after the duel. When the housemates gawked, Abraxas had raised a brow and shrugged. "I did mention the win was definitive."

The Rosier brothers had been pouting ever since.

She hit him with a stinging hex under the table and acted like nothing had happened while she glared at breakfast.

Damn Minerva anyway. Hermione had been dropped in a house full of snakes and told to save the head snake. Then the 'light' side complained about her methods. She hadn't been murdering people left and right. She'd been ruthless, yes…but she thought it was pretty fair all in all.

After all, the man had been in the dressing room to deliver a portkey that could have very well led to Tom's death or to him joining Grindlewald. She knew the dark wizard would be attracted to Tom as soon as they met. The darkness that he'd been born into practically radiated off of him sometimes.

Tom hit Rosier with something nastier than a stunner, meaning that Hermione had missed something.

She picked up her books and grabbed one last muffin. She needed to be away from everyone while she unraveled the mess in her head.

"Hermione?"

She stopped and caught Tom's hand. "Leave me alone for a bit, please? I had nightmares last night and I need to untangle the mess in my head."

He caught hr in his arms and she breathed in the familiar scent of him. He kissed her lips lightly. "Fine. Do you want me to cover for you in your first class?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll be there. I just want to take a walk before breakfast."

He nodded, watching her carefully. "Let me take your books then, so you don't have to hold them while you think." She handed them over to him gratefully, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before he left, earning a quick grin.

She tramped out to the grounds, deciding that a nice walk by the lake might be just what she needed.

Why was she so angry?

It had been building for some time, ever since she'd gotten her bearings in this time. Minerva's well-meaning dream visit had just brought it out in the light so she could examine it.

She picked up a stick and started drawing out a mind map as she leaned on a sun drenched bolder. She'd found the technique was helpful, especially when dealing with emotions.

A few minutes of drawing out words and looking at her automatic associations for them and she realized…she felt angry because she didn't really believe there was any chance at a 'real' life here. No Ron…no Harry. Memories of children that would never be her own, even if they were born to someone. Her entire life, erased.

And what did she get in return? Endless battles. Endless plotting.

If you had asked her (at seventeen) if she would exchange her life for killing Voldemort, the answer would have been yes. But this was different. This wasn't pain and death. This was life, which meant it was much more complicated than simply dying for a cause.

Deep down, she didn't feel like anything she'd built here was real. She felt like she had cheated by knowing what had happened last time, by having lived before.

Except it was real. Tom's arms were real. His smile was real. His murderous thoughts when someone hurt her were real. He was sweet and thoughtful and he made her pulse race. Admitting that was embarrassing, but it was true.

It was hard to believe in fresh starts, but she was going to let go of the past. Ron and Harry were as good as dead to her. Her children would be born to other people. Hopefully in a better world that she made along with Tom and Abraxas and Dumbledore.

And just like that, her heart settled back into her chest and the dark mood that had been plaguing her lifted. She noticed the sun and realized she had missed the first two classes.

Tom would be worried.

She used her wand to sweep away the dirt, blotting out the revealing mind map with wind and then water and hot air.

She wasn't sure what her musings might tell someone else about her origins, but she was certain it wasn't anything good.

 **TRTRTRTR**

He searched for her after she missed her first class. It wasn't like Hermione. She wasn't in the common room and he bribed one of the older girls to make sure she wasn't in her bed. Then he checked the Hospital wing. The grim matron told him sharply that she hadn't seen her.

A trip down to the kitchens yielded no results, but one of the elves mentioned that 'Miss might be down at the lake."

She was drawing in the dirt with a stick when he saw her. Not randomly…no. There were words and bubbles and lines…

There were dates and names and numbers.

And most of all there was him. His name was scrawled all over her diagram.

But there were others. Harry and that Ron boy she'd mentioned. She cried a bit when she scratched them out. Marked them 'dead' and continued to poke the stick in the dirt. She wrote 'fresh start' and put a question mark beside it at first, then pulled the heel of her boot over the mark and underlined it twice.

She seemed a bit less sad after that and quickly erased the whole mess with sure strokes of her wand. He backed away, knowing that she would meet him at lunch.

He did wonder…what was so important about all those dates? Most of them were fifty years in the future. And what was the Chamber of Secrets?

 **HGHGHG**

High above Hogwarts, a falcon flew on a thermal. It saw the girl first, her magic resonating even at that height so she was unmistakable. A plain little brunette, but her power was pronounced for one so young.

The boy followed her. His potential for power was perhaps greater than the girl's…but what was truly intriguing was the aura of darkness around him.

He felt the wards give a light warning jolt and he turned his wings away from the school.

Dumbledore hadn't changed his pattern, which indicated that he was unaware of the little message Gellert had sent with the portkey. It was too bad really. He was quite looking forward to seeing Albus' carefully controlled panic once again. On the other hand, it meant that the children had handled the messenger themselves, which was interesting. The messenger had been a low-level tool of course, he wasn't going to waste anyone of talent on that sort of mission…but he was a fully grown wizard with decent enough skills. The fact that he disappeared with no trace was somewhat telling.

Grindlewald transformed from his animagus form and straitened his robes with a flourish. This could be very interesting.


	22. Chapter 22

_**AN: I swear Mondays exist in a time loop. It's the only explanation for how one day can last nearly a week. So…since this was the day that would not end, here's a bit more of the story. Because Monday shall not win!**_

Gellert Grindlewald walked away from Hogwarts whistling a jaunty tune. How he had missed Albus! Things were never boring when he was around. And running a country was _boring_. If he'd known how ruddy boring it would be, he wouldn't have bothered.

Three of his lieutenants, wizards he could depend on were waiting in a sundrenched clearing.

"My lord." Igor's accent was non-existent and his bow was perfectly measured to be neither too subservient nor disrespectful. Scion of the old Russian Empire before that murderous fool Stalin eradicated the royal family, he was the most pro-muggle member of his inner circle, which implied nothing more than he would rather treat them like livestock than eradicate them.

A sweeping bow and a fall of silken, jet black hair drew attention to the lone French wizard in Gellart's select group. Jean-Marie Basset was a half-blood and his hatred of Muggles came from his father, who had been a wizard. The man's beautiful skin and fine bones hid the soul of a stone-cold killer. His face gave no clue. He was all masculine beauty and Gaelic shrugs. But Gellert knew that behind those lovely, mocking eyes, there was nothing but rage and an unending desire to rid the world of those he despised.

The third member of the group was a short man with a truly impressive set of whiskers about his face. When asked, he claimed his name was John Smith. Captain John Smith no less. What he was a captain of, he never said, but his desire to see the British Ministry burn was as overdone as his facial hair.

"The children are at Hogwarts. I would like to meet them, but I expect my friend Dumbledore might be an issue."

"The wards are the bigger issue. And loitering in the forest is likely to be the end of anyone who tries it. These wolves are not exactly wolves…"

Gellert smirked. "John, as this is your country, please see that I have a short visit with the children. Nothing anyone need worry about. I simply wish to find out what my old friend finds so fascinating. Ask our contact inside the school to arrange a meeting."

Jean-Marie smacked his lips. "As my lord wishes. We will be recruiting the boy?"

Gellert frowned and held up a careless hand. Despite being raised with magic, the great equalizer, they simply never saw the female of the species as a threat. He never made that mistake. His mother had been a woman after all…as had Albus'. Formidable, both of them, and more ruthless for being physically smaller. But if his lieutenants didn't care to learn that lesson from the examples before them, who was he to object? He'd simply have to prove it to them in a more…interesting way. "We shall see. I want to speak to them both. In the meantime, we shall all do what we must…for the Greater Good."

The men chorused, "For the Greater Good."

Gellert smiled and took to the wing.

 **TRTRTR**

Tom quickly remembered where he'd heard the story of the Chamber of Secrets. It was in the copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ that Hermione had bought before they'd even begun school, those first days when he was learning to trust her.

He'd trust her with his life now.

Still, he wondered about all those dates. 1992. It was hard to tell what was so special about it from her diagram. Just the words Ginny and Dobby…then the date and note about the Chamber.

Sometimes he wondered if Hermione didn't see glimpses of the future. It would explain some things, if she had visions. But her attitude about Divination was odd…it didn't fit, and it bothered him.

He should ask Hermione…but he didn't.

Instead, he took himself to Professor Lestrange. Hermione hated the way the woman taught, but she was popular with a certain kind of student, and it cost him nothing but time and a few carelessly polite phrases to inquire about the subject.

She was grading essays when he came into the room. She looked up at him with large dark eyes that were extremely unsettling.

It didn't take him long to get to his point. Her perfume was overwhelming and he couldn't wait to be away.

"Why yes Tom, One most certainly can be a seer without knowing it. I am only filling in until the professor returns of course," The divination professor had taken a nasty, and to Tom's mind, suspicious, curse last term. "But several famous seers actually had no clue that their predictions were coming true until they were alerted by the Ministry." Her eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you having symptoms? I was quite distraught to find out you had decided against taking the subject…" Her hands wandered over his shoulder and down his arm. Her smile turned warm in a way he did not like. "You've always been one of my favorite students."

Tom assured her that his interest was academic, and retreated before he had to hex the woman. Some of the sixth year girls were bold, but the look in the recently married professor's eyes was enough to send any male running. It was greedy and predatory, with a hint of something far colder.

Tom found Hermione in the common room, arguing with Abraxas about NEWT-level transfiguration theory. It was clear the debate was good natured.

Tom slid to her side and took her hand in his own. She paused mid-word and looked at him.

She didn't ask what was wrong, it wasn't the Slytherin way.

"I'm done in. Think I'll take a nap on your lap…"

She laughed charmingly and Abraxas twitted him about being too old on one hand and too young on the other. Tom put his cheek on her thigh and sighed as her warm hand cupped his face. She stroked his curls as she continued the debate and then began her reading or something as the fire died down and the common room cleared slowly.

He never slept, but he felt better after being close to her. When they were practically the only students left, he mentioned "There's something wrong with Professor Lestrange."

Hermione snorted. "I've been saying that."

Tom winced at the flippant nature of the comment. Hermione stilled. Rage danced in her eyes.

"What did she do?"

"Nothing…I just went to ask a question. She..didn't really do anything."

"You'd be that shaken up about nothing?"

"It's a bit stupid to feel like this. She only touched my arm."

"Did you feel…slimy when she did it?"

He trembled, trying desperately not to think about that night at the orphanage when he'd been lured to the procurer…how the man had stared at him. Thanks to Tom's magic, nothing worse had happened, but he'd slipped into the other man's mind, and came up feeling foul. "Slimy is a good word for it."

Hermione's voice cut like steel."Would you like me to take off her hand and make it look like an accident?"

Tom laughed, delighted. "You are a violent little witch."

Hermione blushed so prettily. But then she nodded. "I can be."

He pulled her forehead to his. "I know. But I'll settle for you by my side."

"Is this a ploy to get me to hold your hand in public?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes." She tried to hide a grin, but failed.

He put his head back on her soft lap and nearly purred.

"As long as I have you, I'm not worried. But let's actively avoid her in any case. I didn't like the look in her eyes."

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously.

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione asked Malfoy about Professor Lestrange's family as soon as she saw him the next day. It wasn't subtle and she didn't even pretend to hide her anger. Abraxas gave her the rather boring run-down in minutes (the boy was practically a database for any interesting gossip that had ever been muttered at the school.)

The former Professor Green had been born to two purebloods (of course). She'd been placed at Durmstrang first, but her parents had removed her in their year because of the 'troubles' with Grindelwald. She came to Hogwarts and managed a respectable six OWLS and three NEWTS, though her professors were largely convinced she might have done better had she actually put any effort into magic. Most of her time was spent stalking (in that polite, uppity pure-blood way) eligible wizards.

Her parents came to an agreement with the Lestrange family in her sixth year, and she took a position teaching Charms while she planned her wedding. She'd mentioned several times that she had no intention of continuing to teach after she was married, so a few people questioned her return…though most of them put that down to wanting to be rid of her groom now that she'd caught him.

Hermione smirked at that last comment, and settled down to plot during History of Magic. Binns was alive, but he wasn't a decent speaker and he barely noticed the class. She wondered if it was the result of a spell? _Was_ there a spell to remove someone's personality entirely?

Tom was appealing enough so that the woman might have simply been tempted by his good looks and charm. He was an orphan so he didn't have anyone he could tattle to. Her quill snapped loudly and Tom looked at her with curious eyes. Binns ignored her as she mended the delicate shaft with magic. She had other quills, but this one was a favorite, and she didn't have enough to lose one. She and Tom budgeted their stipend quite strictly. One quill wouldn't bring the entire thing down around their ears, but there was no reason to be wasteful.

After the quill was mended, Hermione turned her mind back to the problem at hand. After a few moments, a positively evil idea popped into her head. Tom was the only one who saw her smile.

 **HGHGHG**

"It's a what?"

She measured five drams of moonstone carefully and gave the mixture three clockwise turns and an extra counter-clockwise twist. "Anti-love potion. I've been considering it for a bit. I'm using the base of a mild love potion but inverting the order of the dove's eggs and aconite, and then adding the base of a departure draft."

"That's for pests."

There was a mild vindictive note in her voice when she said, "Exactly."

He chuckled. "I mean it's poisonous to pests."

"Not until you add the final three ingredients. The base just causes an aversion to an area or a person. And you won't be drinking this. Professor Lestrange will."

He stilled her hand as she chopped with precise, angry strokes.

"You think this is necessary? I could just avoid her."

Hermione sniffed. "You shouldn't have to."

"Anyone else would say that I'm lucky to have attracted the notice of a teacher."

"Then they'd be an idiot. No one likes to feel like an object."

He pulled her away from her work and hugged her tightly. "You are one brilliant witch you know."

She blushed. The potion wasn't that difficult…and she'd had the great good luck to learn from Severus Snape after all.

She wondered if he'd be a potions master in this time line? She was quite certain that Voldemort had paid his fees…she bit back a little grin. Perhaps she and Tom could foot the bill this time.

Tom interrupted. "Who is that smile for?"

She shrugged. "I want to set up a scholarship for young wizards of exceptional talent to get their potions mastery. We only have two Masters in all of Great Britain at the moment. We need to send some young, likely youngsters to the content to get their mastery and return. After the war of course."

"Of course. You do realize that you are planning thirty years in advance?"

There was an odd tone to his voice, so she cocked her head to the side. "It was just an idea."

He kissed her cheek. "A good one."

 **HGHGHG**

She was planning fifty years in the future. It was the unavoidable conclusion. Tom sat down and watched her brew. She was rather magnificent with her wild hair and her sharp focus.

He wondered: did she want to be rid of Grindelwald because he was dark, or because he was a threat to her own plans?

He wondered if she planned to be the next dark lady.

He wondered if it really mattered to him one way or another. As long as she was his.


	23. Chapter 23

_**AN: I know this is a bit short and later than usual, but April has begun! My schedule is punishing. If I have a moment next week, I'll finish the next chapter and get it out (more Abraxas goodness…) if not, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until next weekend! Sorry. I planned to write both this weekend but my daughter's archery meet went on four FOUR hours longer than expected. (Don't ask…) Barring unforeseen events though, I will try to update Wednesday or Thursday.**_

Hermione and Tom were coming down from the astronomy tower during an 'unauthorized' study session. For any other teens, it would imply something physical rather than cerebral had occurred, but that was hardly the case. Tom watched her with possessive pride. They had been working on some calculations on their continuing alchemy studies. Hermione had reluctantly admitted that she'd underestimated the timeline rather badly.

A letter from Perenelle had confirmed their suspicion that the alchemical process was multi-faceted as they suspected, but flatly refused to give details.

" _However, if you happen to find a copy of_ _Physika kai Mystika in the original Greek, I know an excellent translation spell."_

The book was (of course), impossible to find and would be astronomically expensive if they happened on a copy.

They were both making quiet inquires to their Slytherin compatriots in case one of them had a dusty copy in their family library.

In the meantime, Hermione had suggested that they begin the calculations, using the orbit of Venus for the first level of the process. Tom was of the opinion that Jupiter would be a better representation of the 'flesh' in the planets (having read the stories of Zeus, one couldn't doubt it), but Hermione had suggested that Venus was the traditional choice.

"Wizards have made up the bulk of alchemists, and looking at it from their perspective I think it's the correct choice. Venus represents base physical attractions as well as the higher forms of love in mythology. Jupiter is patriarchal power. In the myths, his overactive libido is simply his way of proving his mastery of the universe." She wrinkled her nose slightly and Tom found himself watching her expression more than he was listening to her words. She'd always been pretty, but recently she'd grown into her mouth and nose, shedding her slight awkward stage like a snake shedding skin she'd outgrown.

He found her new skin very interesting indeed.

But that was why they were calculating the angles between the Earth and Moon and Venus rather than Jupiter. He'd gotten distracted by her crinkled nose and the easy mention of anyone's overactive libido.

They'd spent several enjoyable evenings dodging curfew to get the correct angles, and they were finally done. Hermione's arithmancy was elegant and fluid in a way that made their professor gush unnecessarily. Tom was quite good at the subject, but he was put off by the professor fawning all over Hermione. He was seriously considering dosing the man with the anti-love potion now that it was nearly complete. In fact, he wouldn't mind adding the bubling brew to the male half of Hogwart's pumpkin juice.

Tom was pulled from his reverie by the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle.

He and Hermione locked eyes for an instant, and rushed toward the sound.

In the dimly lit corridor, a tiny Minerva McGonagall was dueling three Ravenclaw third years. She was game enough, but at three to one they were wearing her down.

"Half-blood. When the new regime gets to Britain, they are going to put snotty little upstarts like you in your place." A red headed boy was smirking as he tried and failed to land a slug spewing hex.

Minerva saved her breath for spell casting.

Tom pulled out his wand and looked at Hermione. They nodded and waded in with jinxes. Nothing too dark, but they disarmed Minerva's tormentors quickly, with a few embarrassing jinxes for good measure.

The little Gryffindor wiped her sweaty brow. She was nursing a nasty burn across her forearm and a deep welt over her nose.

Hermione looked positively murderous.

Tom stepped in, addressing the Ravenclaws. "I expect you realize that to continue in this behavior would be a mistake." His voice was full of the purring potential for dark consequences should they continue their attentions.

The third years glared, but they didn't say anything. The entire year knew that he and Hermione were well about their grade level in defense. Rumors of what she'd done to Rosier had circulated as well, though no one but Slytherins really believed that they were accurate. Most made the mistake of thinking they were exaggerated.

Tom loosed their bindings and sent them on their way with a stinging hex.

Hermione watched them with narrowed eyes. His vindictive little witch would no doubt exact some subtle revenge later.

Then they both turned to Minerva who half-glared at them. "It was my fight."

Tom raised a brow. "Three to one is hardly fair."

"Aye. But now they'll just say the pure bloods helped…"

Hermione cut in. "Who says we're pure?"

"Everyone knows that Slytherins…"

"I'm a muggleborn."

Minerva gaped. "No…that's….I heard that some dark wizard went after your family and you killed him."

She shook her head laughing. "No. A dark wizard did kill my family in a way…they were running from him when they died. But I didn't kill him. My friend died doing it."

Minerva looked horrified. "I'm so sorry. For them and for your friend…"

Hermione sighed. "It's over with, and he wouldn't want me to mourn forever. He would have loved knowing you. Harry would have been in Gryffindor for certain." She shook her head. "In any case, they are idiots if they think that Grindelwald would hate you because you are a half-blood. He'd hate you because you would stand up and tell him that killing Muggles for sport was wrong." She gave the other girl a wry grin and pulled her into a hug.

"I've been doing so much better since mum and da got me the new wand." She huffed and picked up her school things. "They've gotten worse you know. Ravenclaws have always been rotten to me, but this older group left me along until the end of last year."

Hermione frowned. "What drew their attention?"

She shrugged. "One of my friends said her sister is in Ravenclaw. They're very proud of their blood in that house. Well, they would be. They're mostly purebloods…and I think Professor Lestrange encourages it."

"I thought Flitwick was their Head of house."

"He is, but he doesn't know how to deal with the girls, or that's what Professor Lestrange says. She's always in and out of the Ravenclaw tower."

She and Tom exchanged a long look.

"We'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower."

"I'll be fine on my own."

"Don't make me hex you."

Hermione pulled out her wand and Minerva's eye widened.

"Oh don't be daft! I'm not really going to hex you. I'm going to do a disillusionment charm and make you invisible."

"Wow…is that NEWT level?"

"I'm not sure it comes up in the NEWTS under the practical. It's fairly advanced magic, but it is handy."

Tom smirked and placed one on himself, the familiar feeling of a cold, slightly slimy, cracked egg ran over his body as the charm took hold.

Minerva reached out and grabbed a handful of robes, gasping. "I want to learn how to do that."

Hermione smiled down at the girl fondly and Tom had to repress a surge of something he didn't want to define. She stroked the girl's black hair and tugged gently on her plait. "Another time. Remind me and we'll work on it. For now, let's get you back."

She led the way from the tower with sure steps, stopping at the portrait of a very well rounded witch, affectionately known as the 'fat lady'.

Hermione recovered the spell from Minerva, but neither she nor Tom said anything as the girl ignored the portrait's questions, gave the password, and slipped through the portrait hole.

She took his hand as they walked down to the dungeons. He loved the feeling of her skin on his, though her fingers felt cold and clammy because of the spell…like something dead.

He removed the spell from both of them as soon as they entered the dungeons. If Slughorn found them wandering around, the most they would get would be an evening chopping ingredients or brewing simple potions for him while he tried to direct their future careers. Annoying, but not that different from potions when all was said and done.

Hermione gave him a surprised look.

"Your hand felt wrong covered in the spell." He looked away, unwilling to admit that it had given him a horrible feeling when he realized she felt _dead_.

He pulled her tight and kissed her there in the middle of the hallway. She responded, but her eyes questioned him. He answered the unspoken look with a kiss on her temple. "Let's get you back to the common room. We have class early tomorrow."

He'd been remiss. He'd been distracted with other projects and let his idea of finding a way to make them invulnerable fall to the wayside. When he'd felt her hand, he couldn't help but remember that his mother had died. She had cared for him as well…she'd taken the time to name him carefully, though she knew she was dying.

Death had stolen one woman who cared for Tom already. Who was to say that he wasn't just lying in wait for Hermione as well?

Tom walked her back with a possessive hand on her waist.

He'd find a way.

 **TRTRTR**

"The Lestrange woman is a careful bint."

Hermione frowned at Abraxas as Tom hid a smirk. The blond lounged elegantly in the near-empty common room, safe in the knowledge that his silencing spells would keep anyone from overhearing.

"You disagree?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "It's not a word I'm fond of but the sentiment is correct."

Abraxas waved a careless hand. "Let's not get into a semantic argument. I'm not sure what your exact plan is…" He wasn't asking for specifics because Hermione had insisted that she didn't want him involved if they were somehow caught, as unlikely as that might be.

"But I have a fairly good idea of why you would ask me to research her habits, and she's exceptionally paranoid for such an unassuming creature. It makes one wonder why."

"It does." Hermione's voice was like steel. "It makes me think that we might need a confidant…someone she trusts."

"As far as I can tell, she's testing everything she eats or drinks, even in the great hall."

Tom picked up his quill thoughtfully, running his fingers over the shaft as he often did when thinking. "I wonder if she'd do the same thing, if the house elves brought it? Didn't you say she takes hot chocolate in her rooms every night while she floos her husband?"

"The elves can't be involved. It's part of the terms of their agreement with wizards." Hermione was scratching out something and Tom frowned at her off handed comment.

Tom's eyes widened, momentarily distracted. "I think I should start spending more time with you when you visit them. You always seem to know the most interesting things."

"Feel free. They love it when we sneak into the kitchens and they're always willing to talk to an interested witch or wizard." Her face was softer for a moment, and then she shoved her thoughts back behind her shield so quickly that he could feel the force of it.

He took her hand. "You looked sad."

"There was a house elf once, an awful thing. He couldn't stand me at first. He was technically Harry's. Things were rocky at first, but eventually he told me a lot of what I knew about pureblood culture. And his treacle tarts were amazing."

Abraxas leaned forward. "What happened to them?"

Hermione shrugged. "They died. Everyone died. And then I had to start a new life. And I've done so."

She looked so weary. Tom pulled her into his arms.

She leaned into his body as a couple of tears escaped before she roughly wiped her eyes with her hand. Abraxas handed her his silk handkerchief.

She shook her head. "Right, enough emotional upheaval. We need to get down to business. Let's start from the beginning. Tell me about Professor Lestrange's day. How much time do you think we'd have between the elves leaving her pot of hot chocolate in her warded rooms and when she returns from her rounds? "

Her eyes were determined, and for the first time Tom wondered…how could he compete with the ghosts of her past?

 **HGHGHG**

She insisted on being the one to dose the repugnant professor. For one thing, if one of them was caught and expelled, it would be better if it were her. She could easily pass her NEWTS after all. Also, both the brew and the plan were entirely her doing, so if someone was going to get caught and punished for them, it was only right that it be her.

She had no intention of getting caught though.

She waited, disillusioned in front of the woman's door. When she heard the slight pop that indicated the elves had left the chocolate by on the low table within the room, she hurried to the door.

Abraxas and Tom were creating a mild disturbance. They were going to hit Mulciber with a canto hex just as the witch made her rounds. He'd be singing and dancing and generally making a disturbance. The counter curse was a bit obscure and Hermione hoped it would buy her a little time because the wards were rather impressive.

She managed to bring them down in a bit under two minutes, and fond the chocolate pot by the fire. She carefully poured in half a dram of the potion, replaced the lid, and scurried out to redo the wards. She was finishing when she heard them coming up the corridor, Mulciber still singing at the top of his lungs, and the professor tugging him along by one much abused looking ear.

"Come along! I have a book on counter curses in my room…"

Hermione shot a quick tripping jinx at his dancing feet and he took them both to the floor. She silently finished the wards and held herself very still as they passed her hiding place on the wall.

"Idiot boy." She undid her own wards with a word, too irritated to check for any missing links in the spell. Hopefully, the same would apply to her chocolate once she had the time to drink it.

If the anti-love potion worked correctly, Professor Lestrange would experience nausea and dizziness every time she was in Tom's presence. The symptoms would be mild at first, but would progress exponentially over time until she vomited and passed out.

The foul woman would have to avoid Tom completely…which suited Hermione down to the ground.


	24. Chapter 24

_**AN: Yes, it took me longer than I thought to write this. By now, everyone is familiar with my normal excuses. They are all still valid.**_

 _ **I normally write fluffy stories, but this keeps dipping over into drama.**_

They'd been asked to Abraxas' home for the holiday again, but it wasn't going to be a large gathering this year. His father's health had declined sharply recently. The boy tried not to show it, but he was somewhat overwhelmed with the prospect of being the heir to the Malfoy fortunes at such a young age, and just a bit relieved that the father who derided him would soon be out of his life. Thus the blond was having small twinges of stress and guilt.

Malfoy was staring out of the icy window as the train chugged along the tracks. Hermione reached over and covered his hand with her own. "You will be alright. Your mother has been running everything for years and you'll have years to learn the business side from her."

"But the politics were the one thing my father has actually handled, and he's done it in such a ham-handed way that we have many enemies that were traditionally allies."

She smiled at him. "You will win them back. Donations to worthy causes and your own personality will bring your name back into prominence. You'll be the preeminent pureblooded family again within five years." She knew as she said it that her offhand words held more weight than they should. Abraxas nodded and settled into himself, relaxing.

Did everyone assume she was some sort of seer who was hiding her abilities?

She supposed it was as good of an explanation as any.

Tom lounged on their bench, head in her lap. He'd taken to lying like that as often as he could, physically taking up as much of the space around her as possible.

She smiled when she considered how much more relaxed he was now that the Lestrange issue was taken care of.

The professor had reacted to Tom's physical presence with exactly the reaction Hermione had hoped for. She generally wandered away if she wasn't focusing on speaking with him, and if she stayed (by pure force of will) then she turned slightly green until she left the boy alone. Hermione and Tom had started taking bets on how long she could last. It was especially entertaining at mealtimes.

All playfulness aside, Hermione had watched the vile woman, and enlisted the house elves to monitor her as well. The elves weren't allowed to tell their master's secrets, but in this case, they master was the castle itself, and the professors were a bit of a grey area, but the safety of the children was not. They didn't even have to punish themselves if they used their magic to hamper the woman's ability to interact with the students.

This led to several months of amusement for Hermione. Lestrange would be talking to a group in the halls and suddenly jump as if she'd been bitten by something. Or she would try to watch Quidditch and have to leave because Tom managed to fly too close. Professor Slughorn seemed convinced that she was pregnant, and Lestange took his cheerful offers of nutrient potions as a personal insult.

The Professor blamed Hermione for these changes (and rightly so). She had recently started assigning detentions for the most trivial reasons. She'd repeatedly tried to assign dirty jobs on the grounds or in the forest, but so far Hermione had avoided anything worse than chopping potions ingredients. The professor's dislike for the younger witch was so apparent that Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Slughorn had begun volunteering to take the detentions. As Lestrange wasn't her head of house, there was little she could do the professors if they wanted to spend their time overseeing detentions, but Hermione was becoming annoyed with the constant disruptions.

Still, they had several weeks of Holiday before she'd have to deal with the woman again. Perhaps she'd sod off once the old Divination professor returned.

Hermione stroked Tom's hair and smiled at Abraxas. Once again they'd managed to get a carriage to themselves. Hagrid and Minerva were staying at the castle over the break. Hermione had worried about them a bit, until they'd promised to keep clear of the Ravenclaws.

She frowned. It wasn't even one Ravenclaw in particular. The entire house seemed to be a seething mass of misplaced anger.

Still, Dumbledore was staying and she'd warned him to keep an eye on her favorite lions.

That was one relationship that had moved into odd territory. Dumbledore was technically her professor, but he didn't treat her anything like a child. They had weekly tea in his office; a habit that had led to several petulant questions from Slughorn at the high table, the potions professor envied the close relationship the two of them shared. (Hermione knew this, because she'd cast a variation of the spell that had made Fred and George's extendable ears work…she'd spent quite a bit of time eaves dropping on the high table since she thought of it.) Dumbledore had smiled and assured the other professors that he and Miss Granger discussed many things, particularly his work with Flamel, who was a common friend.

Dippet had frowned slightly. "But surely you introduced her. The Flamels are notoriously reclusive."

"Not at all Headmaster. Though I must admit I was surprised when my old friend Nicholas mentioned the two youngsters in one of his letters."

"He knew both of them?"

"He knew Tom through Hermione. The children stayed with the Flamels over the summer for a bit. I believe Nicholas is considering taking them both on as apprentices in a few years."

Slughorn nearly wet his pants in delight. "Well, there will be no lack in their potions education, I assure you. They are neck and neck in class and two of the most gifted students I've ever had, no matter what their blood status might be. Has anyone done any checking? It would do them no harm to find relatives, and Merlin knows any house would be glad to claim either or both of them."

Dumbledore had sighed. "Miss Granger claims not to care…there may be some residual anger there, the issue with the death of her parents you know." He'd added that last bit simply to bait the others…none of them knew for certain and at best had only heard garbled rumors from the Slytherins…who were known to pass along completely erroneous information simply to amuse themselves.

Hermione turned her attention back to the carriage. Malfoy was now lounging on the other bench with his robes folded behind him for a pillow.

He caught her eye. "I don't happen to have a warm lap to lie on so one must make do."

Tom didn't open up an eye. "Find your own witch."

The blond grimaced. "My mother is in the process of doing just that I'm afraid."

Hermione looked up, full of sympathy. She'd joked about this when they'd first met him, but that was years before and it wasn't funny anymore. "I hope she's a decent sort at least."

He shrugged. "Once the wedding and bedding is done, I won't have to have much to do with her if she isn't."

Hermione sighed. "You know that's not the way it is supposed to be, right?"

He shrugged. "It is the way that it is. And we have less choice at the moment, because my father has been a prat most of his life and has managed to annoy nearly every other family in one way or another."

"I suppose finding a woman you love and marrying her is out of the question."

"Finding a woman I like is hard enough. And my favorite witch is taken."

Tom sat up and glared, while Malfoy gave him a charming smile. "What? I'm talking about my mother of course."

Tom huffed and let himself sit up. Malfoy chuckled evilly.

Hermione thought about asking Abraxas a question and then realized that he might not be comfortable discussing it with Tom there.

Instead she asked "So do you have any idea who your mother is considering?"

He shrugged moodily. "I know the type; specifics won't make the prospects any more appealing."

Tom gave Abraxas a half-commiserating, half-mischievous smile, "At least the fidelity charms are only active on the female…" Tom winced as Hermione whacked his arm. "What? It's to make certain the children are Malfoys."

"And gives the wife an excellent reason to murder him in his sleep."

Malfoy laughed. "True. I will speak to Mother about a time limit on the fidelity charms to keep my new bride from poisoning me at some point in our marriage."

"How will you stand it?"

He gave them a cocky grin. "Because I will have to. Good friends help."

 **TRTRTRTR**

Tom was dancing with the latest in a long line of witches that he wished were Hermione. Hermione was speaking with Helena Malfoy, Quintus Goyle, and several other purebloods. They were all laughing at something the host had said. Goyle was the 'hale and hardy' English type…a man's man with a thin veneer of gentility. Malfoy's father was watching the group with a small frown from a chair where his legs were covered with a blanket.

The dandy looked grey around the gills, his white-blond hair thinning badly over the past year and his bones jutting out. He was still a git to Hermione. Tom didn't like it.

Abraxas didn't notice the scene his parents were acting out. He was busy charming another group of younger matrons in the corner, far away from the debutants he was supposed to be courting.

The house party was at the home of the Goyle family. They had two daughters Hermione's age and it wasn't an invitation that Helena Malfoy felt they could avoid, even with company. Tom admired the fine robes the Malfoy matriarch had purchased for him. Hermione was also robed in a fashion that he'd never seen before…something inspired by the early Greeks, and her curls were styled to match. The flowing look was excellent on her thin frame.

He wasn't pleased by all the attention she was getting from the purebloods. The women were just as bad as the men. If the women were looking she was being considered for arranged matches despite her orphaned state.

He didn't neglect his partner, but the chit was no more interested in him than he was in her…he was too young to bed and not rich enough to wed. He hated her a bit.

He delivered the girl to her next partner and asked their hostess to dance. Her cheekbones looked familiar.

"Oh, I was a Black before I married Quintus Goyle." She giggled like a particularly annoying schoolgirl as he did his best to be charming. Her mouth never stopped and she talked about anything and everything. Must have been a Huffelpuff.

To his amusement, despite insisting on having them all at the party, he quickly saw that she didn't particularly want to attract the next Malfoy heir for her daughters. "Too many of them die young and I'd like more than one grandchild. That curse on the family…"

Tom's eyes widened. "Oh yes! The Malfoys are cursed, and it was one of the matriarchs of the line that did it. There will only be one male heir born to the line. A they rarely have a girl unless they marry a particularly powerful witch."

Tom gave her his rapt attention. The woman preened and continued. "Not that anyone would have wanted to have more than one child with the current Malfoy, but the new model is much more appealing." She eyed Abraxas in a way that made Tom uncomfortable. Then she looked back at him with the same look in her eyes. "Of course, most wizards don't know, but the fidelity charms are easy enough to manipulate. A few spells, and someone to take the curse for you and you can do as you please."

"Someone to take the curse?"

"Most of the charms have a penalty for breaking them. The mildest are painful, the strictest cause death. If you redirect the curse, you don't have to bother with the consequences." She batted her eyelashes at him and Tom shot a mild non-verbal confusion spell at her and left her in the company of a half dozen unhappily-married men. One of them could take the blame for hitting her with the charm when or if it was discovered.

Of course that was a big if, considering her intellect.

 **TRTRTR**

Tom waited for Helena by the floo that night.

He cleared his throat as she took a handful of the shimmery powder. "I finally figured out what you were doing."

She turned, expression shocked. Tom smiled benignly. "I wonder, did you even want a lover? Or is this just the method you are using to punish your husband?"

She smiled in her slightly cold way. "Clever boy. If it matters, my husband has never been true. He spent our wedding night with another lover. It's amazing that we had Abraxas at all."

He nodded. "So you are removing him."

"He threatened Abraxas. He's making life difficult for him."

"He accosted Hermione."

She nodded, clever enough not to bring up the fact that she'd wanted the bright girl for her son. "He was quite rude, I hear. I like the girl. But mostly, I will not allow him to ruin my son's life."

Tom nodded. "Well, obviously, I am a child and couldn't possibly stop you. In fact, I don't even know what we are talking about. Have an enjoyable evening."

He walked out as Helena activated the floo to meet her lover and redirect the spell that would finish killing her husband.

Tom wondered if he could get out of attending the funeral, and then realized he probably couldn't.

"Damn it." _Should have asked her to wait until they were back at Hogwarts._ Then he realized…she'd planned it so that Abraxas wouldn't have to miss school.

Tom stopped in the corridor and his eyes widened. That was…a bit cold and calculated, even for him. He didn't let it bother him long, but he'd take special care not to make an enemy of Helena Malfoy in the future.


	25. Chapter 25

_**AN: So I sort of sat right down and 'finished' this. Thank you for all the reviews! They mean so much to every writer. I wish I had this kind of cheering section when I was writing my original work! I'd put out three books a year and finally be able to write full time! You guys are amazing and you make my day.**_

The funeral was tasteful, but exceedingly well planned…almost as if someone had been arranging things for months. It was precisely correct and ran with ruthless efficiency.

If Tom ever took over the wizarding world, Helena was going to be the minister of something that sounded unimportant but was vital. The woman was bloody brilliant.

Her grief was subdued and appropriate, but not overdone. The ministry had looked into the death of course, and found that her husband had liver and heart failure…most likely from long term abuse of pain potions and absinthe.

Tom couldn't decide if the rebounding curse had actually pushed him over the edge or just weakened him enough so that his natural vices could take the man.

It was by far the cleverest murder he'd ever encountered.

He kept his own face solemn, which was better than many of the funeral party. It seemed that there were a great many people who were overjoyed that the man finally kicked off.

Tom watched Abraxas carefully. He seemed a bit distraught, but fully resigned. Hermione sat between them and the young Malfoy heir held her hand tightly. Many of the pureblood matrons were watching that interaction. Tom didn't know what to feel in that moment. On one hand, he didn't like Hermione touching other people at all, and it seemed she was always doing so. On the other…he disliked that Abraxas was unhappy, and some small spurt of guilt might have influenced his decision to allow the other boy the comfort of having Hermione near…for a short while.

The dead man was entombed in the family cemetery and a quiet tea was served for the families that had been invited. The Goyle patriarch gave Helena an odd, questioning look, to which she managed a few tears which immediately made the man scurry away.

The guests left after what seemed like an eternity. Tom went to collect Hermione from Abraxas. She was sitting beside him, looking very pretty in another new set of robes…how many had Helena ordered for all of them?

Abraxas gave his arm a squeeze. "Thank you for being here today Tom."

Tom snorted and returned the gesture. "Thanks for lending my witch to you temporarily to keep the vultures from descending with marriageable daughters you mean."

Abraxas batted his eyelashes at Tom. "Well, if you'd stood as close to me as she had it would have done the trick as well…with my father's reputation and your good looks everyone would assume that the apple didn't fall far from the tree." His laugh was bitter. Tom gripped his shoulder. "The place where you are different from your father is your heart. You are a canny, manipulative bastard, but you have a good heart." Tom was shocked to realize he actually meant those words…

Abraxas punched him in the arm lightly. "Thanks."

Tom nodded. "You are welcome." He offered his arm to Hermione. "I think Mother and son need to speak without guests. We'll be in our rooms."

Abraxas snorted. "If you think I haven't noticed you end up in _one_ room, you are quite mistaken."

Tom felt the warmth and good humor drain from his face like it had never been there. Hermione held his arm and stepped in. "It isn't what you think…"

The blond laughed. "It's exactly what I think, if it's just the two of you holding each other and sleeping." He cupped Hermione's face. "I envy the two of you sometimes. But don't fret. I won't tell anyone that you are only so strong because you are together."

Tom let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank you. People wouldn't understand."

"They would if they thought about it. You have no one but each other and it has been like that since you were children. It makes sense in an odd sort of way. You are almost two halves of the same person. So I knew when Hermione was holding my hand today, it was both of you."

Tom laughed. "Don't take it too far! If you want hand holding you'll have to ask her."

The blond laughed as they walked to their rooms.

 **TRTRTRTR**

Abraxas entered the drawing room where his mother was writing exquisite thank you notes in her elegant handwriting.

She looked up when he entered and put her quill back into the ink carefully. "How are you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I am…a bit numb I suppose. He is… _he was_ not a good father, but he was mine and I'm not certain how I should feel now that he's gone."

"I didn't ask you how you should feel…I asked how you do feel."

"Relived. It's horrible to admit it, but he frightened me when I was young, and every time he walked into the room I knew something would happen that would hurt or embarrass me. He killed any residual filial devotion that I might have had."

She gave a tiny relived sigh. "I am glad that you are not unhappy. I love you so much my son."

"I love you too Mother."

"I want to speak to you about your marriage."

Abraxas groaned. "Have the vultures descended already?"

"They will. You know as well as I that if something had happened to you before, your father would have been available to have another child…hopefully with another woman. But there would have been another chance for an heir, as unlikely as it seems. Now you are all that is left of the Malfoy line. The curse that is over this house will protect you to some extent, but understand that you must marry quickly and beget an heir as soon as possible. There are many who would profit from your death my son…the Malfoy fortune is a vicious motivator to some. Do you have any preference in a wife?"

He sighed. "I like the Granger girl, but I'm not in love with her and she's surely not in love with me. I believe that she will eventually come to an understanding with young Riddle, but it might be somewhat unconventional. She might even come to love someone else eventually, but I think that would be years in the making." He sighed. "Normally I would be quite content to wait. "

"Not if you wish to remain alive. Helga Olivander is attractive and available…she was a few years ahead of you."

"And quite annoying if my memory serves." Abraxas sighed and rested his head on his mother's shoulder. "I suppose she'll do. Does she know about the curse? I won't lure in some foolish girl without a proper warning."

"She does and I think her…natural inclinations will keep her from being too disappointed. I suggest removing the fidelity charm directly after the child is born and letting her have enough time and money so that she gets caught. Then you can put her aside quietly at one of the family estates where she can live the way she prefers."

"I wonder if she's canny enough to respect that being in the contract. It could be an undisclosed amendment in the agreement."

"I think not. She enjoys pulling the wool over other people's eyes a bit much."

Abraxas shrugged. "Very well. Don't expect me to play the smitten suitor, but if you can come up with an agreement that won't bankrupt the vaults, I suppose she'll do."

Helena took his hand. "I am sorry for bringing you into this family my boy. If I had known of the curse before my marriage…"

"Which is why father chose you. You didn't know about the curse, didn't know about his preferences…had no idea about anything. But at least you loved me. It's more than I can say for the rest of them."

He looked toward the guest rooms. "And it's more than just everyone gets. I will not repine Mother. I will do what I must. My bride will be aware that I do not intend to give up my friendships...and if she'd quiet in her affairs I won't argue as long as she doesn't present me with a long line of bastards."

Helena laughed. "Oh my son! Do you think I'd do that to you? No, the girl prefers those of the gentle sex. I think it is a fine fit. You reputation will guard hers' and I'm certain you will not make many demands on her once the child is born."

Abraxas grimaced. It might have been nice, to have someone that he could speak with at least. Still, his mother had endured a similar arrangement. He could too. "I will make no demands on her at all, I assure you."

"It is hardly a perfect solution, but it is one that will keep you alive my love. I won't have some distant cousin assassinating you for your vault."

 **TRTRTR**

Hermione returned to Hogwarts with a slight twinge of guilt. She'd been so busy over the break that she'd neglected her studies for the first time…well since she, Harry, and Ron had been on the Horocrux hunt.

She settled into the library with a sigh. Madam Pince gave her a half-scowl for the noise, but there was little heat behind it.

She was quietly comparing her notes to some old manuscripts that Perenelle had sent copies of when Professor Lestrange walked into the library with a stack of magazines and a terrible attitude.

She tossed them at the librarian and caught sight of Hermione. "You owe me a detention girl."

Hermione looked up from her calculations and sighed. "Of course. May I ask what for?"

"Your total lack of respect for your professors. Some of my Ravenclaws found letters in your handwriting, describing my faults as a professor. Letters between you and Riddle. I expect both of you at the grounds at ten tonight. You'll be spending tonight in the forbidden forest with the groundskeeper, Ogg."

Hermione watched the woman go.

Madam Pince looked worried. "You didn't put anything incriminating down on paper did you dear?" She gave a look to the door the woman had just exited. "I can see why you dislike her." She used her wand to restore the magazines to their former perfection, but still glared at the absent professor.

"I didn't write those letters, but I suspect she senses my very real dislike and feels that she hasn't properly punished me for it. Perhaps once she has she'll stop assigning these detentions and we can all get on with life. I'm sure the other Professors are tired of her assigning them for me coughing too loudly in the halls or failing to pass the mustard during lunch."

Madam Pince nodded. "I'd let Slughorn know all the same."

Hermione nodded, but didn't comment. "I'll tell someone. Thank you."

She went directly to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Tom and I have detention tonight for a stack of letters that we supposedly wrote. They are undoubtedly fake unless I've taken to writing in my sleep."

He looked up from a stack of correspondence. "I see, well there are more than enough things to do in my room if you don't mind…"

"Professor Lestrange assigned us to Ogg. I think she wants to see us do some dirty task without magic."

The Professor sighed. "I suppose it won't kill either of you, but I don't like for you to endure this for no better reason that she's carrying a grudge."

His eyes asked more than one question, but he didn't slip into her mind…which was just as well. The next time he did that she was going to surprise him with one of the sorting hat's songs.

"I suppose we should go. I'm well aware of the things in the forest, and Ogg isn't the brightest man on Earth, but he's formidable in his element. We'll both have our wands."

"And I will be waiting for you to return."

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione was incredibly glad that Hagrid had not yet found the giant Spider Aragog as she walked into the forest with Ogg. (She made a mental note to nip that fiasco in the bud. Obviously Aragog had never killed a human, but his family was another matter, and she wouldn't forget the Battle of Hogwarts any time soon.)

Even without the threat of giant, man-eating spiders, there were still plenty of unfriendly beasts. Giants still roamed Great Britain for one thing, as did trolls. There were also packs of wolves in the forest, they by-product of werewolves mating at the full moon. They were wolf in shape, but unlike their parents they were quite human in mind…which meant that they had the option to be very good or very bad and everything in between.

Still she and Tom were armed, and Ogg was a capable escort in his way. Spending the evening harvesting fungi wasn't a bad way to spend a detention.

Tom was peering into the forest. "We're going to have to do something about her you know."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose. I had hoped the potion that kept her away from you would be enough. I wonder why her husband doesn't protest the fact that she's spending ten months out of the year teaching at a boarding school."

"If she was my wife, I'd protest that it wasn't twelve."

At that moment Ogg fell to the forest floor.

Hermione and Tom were back to back within seconds, shields up and ready, and Hermione quickly cast a revelo spell. Instead of screaming that there were three of them, she conjured eye-blinding pink paint and splashed it in the general direction of the last noise she heard.

A man's protest was heard as some of the paint splashed over his form. Hermione quickly followed it with a nasty cutting hex.

Tom followed her lead and splashed yellow paint the next time heard a noise. A female form cursed loudly as Tom hit her with a reducto. The paint disappeared so they'd figured out a spell to remove it.

A potion bottle shattered right outside the shield and a mustard-yellow fog started seeping through it. Hermione produced a wind that sent it in the direction of the one who had tossed the bottle, but the clever foe was already gone.

Hermione muttered. "Read my mind."

She felt Tom slip in and pictured him closing his eyes. He did and she used a bright light temporally blind their opponents.

She used the break to cast a patronus and sent it for Dumbledore.

The assailants used her break in concentration and pounded their shield mercilessly. Hermione tried the paint trick, altering the composition so it wouldn't come off with magic. She managed to tag all three of them with the bright paint as Tom tossed out jinx after jinx.

She strengthened the shields and started using the nastiest curses she could think of. The entrail-expelling curse, the impero, and tortura…an Italian curse that made one vomit up their own stomach.

She landed quite a few of them, and Tom was dueling beautifully. His quick reactions and more powerful spells left even the grown wizards that were attacking them breathless.

A sharp crack alerted Hermione that someone was near, but as she turned, it was not Dumbledore as she'd hoped, but a handsome blond man with a wickedly amused look in his eye.

"Well, well, well. I have been quite annoyed with my dear Lestrange here for her tardiness in bringing the two of you to me. I thought she was overestimating you both when she asked for two of my best fighters to help bring you in." He grinned in a way that wasn't even close to sane. "I suppose I owe her an apology."

Hermione kept a firm grip on her wand. "Well, now we've met."

"Indeed. You and the boy are quite interesting. My spies have told me all about you. Odd ducks, both of you. They don't know what the boy is, beyond skilled and powerful, but some of my spies insist that you are a new breed of seer."

"Fine sort of Seer that allows herself to get caught by a dictator."

She was stalling. Dumbledore might have never seen a patronis used for the purpose of messages before, but he would surely be on his way…hopefully with Flitwick and some of the other professors.

"Indeed. But then, sight is not the most consistent gift. But it is useful, especially to one like myself."

He pulled out the deathstick and she sucked in a bit more air than she'd meant to. "Oh!" His face was ecstatic. "You know what this is?"

She tried to stand a little taller. "Yes." She looked at him. She'd never faced a wizard with this wand. Her own wand felt warm in her hand though, almost comforting.

His eyes narrowed. "You are not afraid."

She laughed, and it was that slightly unhinged sound she'd heard before out of her mouth. Living two lives wasn't very good on one's sanity. "No." Her voice still bubbled with laughter. "I'm not afraid of death, so I have already mastered it. I don't need three hallows to do it."

"Clever girl. Did you parents seek the hallows?"

"No. Someone who was trying to kill me did once. He found one of them. Of course, then he died and it was lost. Just as it always is."

"Which of them? Tell me girl!" His voice was strident.

She heard Dumbledore coming with what sounded like the centaur herd and half the school. Grindelwald's men looked uncomfortable under their coat of paint.

"Sir, we must leave or call reinforcements."

Hermione smiled. "The cloak. I once saw the cloak in Australia."

The dark wizard smiled in a manic kind of way and waved his people off. "Sweet girl. You make my dreams reality. I will see you again. Until then, ado!"

He bowed mockingly as Dumbledore broke through the underbrush and disappeared with a resounding crack.

She leaned against Tom, and he held her. He whispered, "What was that about?"

She shook her head and looked at Dumbledore, the raised a quick silencing charm around them. "He has the deathstick."

Dumbledore's eyes were wide as the centaurs patrolled the area.

"What happened to Ogg?"

"Non-verbal stunner I think." Tom was practically holding her up. She was shaking. He kissed her cheek. "Dippet is going to have to find a new Divination professor. Lestrange was the spy in Hogwarts."

"He said spies." Her voice sounded rough. She cleared it and tried again. "He said he had spies…when we talked."

"You kept him well occupied."

Tom stroked her head. "After we fought his men to a standstill. I think he intended to kidnap us and find out what he could, then obliviate us."

"That sounds like him. So the two of you managed to keep him and three of his people at bay?"

Tom shrugged. "He never lifted his wand. But Hermione and I managed the other three."

"I'm pretty sure I caught Lestrange with a tortura. If she doesn't know the counter she's going to have to regrow her stomach."

Dumbledore twinkled. "I suppose it is a fate well earned…and it will do her the great favor of insuring she keeps her girlish figure a while longer."

Hermione pulled herself erect and took a deep breath. "Some people will do anything to stay thin."


	26. Chapter 26

_**AN: This is very late and the shortest update I've ever written for this story. Sorry. I did warn everyone about April and May.**_

 _ **Also…I purloined another bit of JK Rowling's world: The Knights of Walpurgis were the precursor to the Death Eaters in the books…in this story they are an existing organization. Hey…it isn't**_ **explicitly** _ **stated that Tom started the Knights, and I really like where this is going…**_

 _ **Please don't expect another update until next weekend. I have activities after work literally every night this week. Unless something gets canceled, I won't have time.**_

They were sitting in Dumbledore's office and Tom was seething after fighting Grindelwald's people. He was cursed, dirty, and sweating. Everyone else seemed to know about these hallows and he was in the dark. He hated being ignorant. Hermione had never mentioned any hallows to him. It made him feel…unprepared…and a little betrayed. "Tell me about these hallows." He congratulated himself about keeping his voice even, calm. At least until he saw Hermione flinch. He took her hand and changed his tone. "Tell me." After all, she was tired, and dirty, and sweating too. She'd been cursed as many time as he had.

Their professor folded his hands. "I would like to hear this story as well Miss Granger."

She sighed and looked up at their Transfiguration professor. "I assume you have a copy of the book? In the original?"

The older man nodded slowly. He didn't even ask her what book, just pulled out a battered copy of children's tales. "I was not aware that you were so well versed in ancient runes."

She chuckled darkly as she took the rather battered book. "It saved my life once."

She turned to the page with a familiar symbol done in ink on the parchment. It was they mark that Grindlewald plastered everywhere. His mark, they called it. His sign to everyone that he had been to a place, done violence there. "There were once three brothers…"

Tom couldn't help but notice that as Hermione read the tale, it was rote more than reading. She had read this story out loud, many, many times it seemed. Perhaps to that friend of hers that was killed. He paid rapt attention though as she mentioned the three 'hallows'.

Once she finished he said, "Grindlewald has the Deathstick. That's what you said in the forest. It didn't make any sense. The deathstick is the wand from the story?"

She nodded. "Yes. It's old and powerful, but calling it unbeatable is something of a misnomer since it has passed from wizard to wizard, mostly in duels to the death."

Tom started pacing. "He's obviously looking for the other two. And you told him where the cloak was?"

Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for the answer to that question as well. Hermione smiled beautifully, with that wicked glint he loved in her eye. "I told him where it was _once_. I have no idea where it is now. And I don't want to know. I'm not going looking for those things." She shuddered. "It might be saying too much when you imagine them to be Death's possessions, but the stories and the history agree…they are dangerous." She turned to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You see Tom, there are wizards who believe that the items in this story are very real, and that one who can master all three will 'master' death itself, becoming immortal, or close to it."

Tom felt his own breath catch. "And what do you think sir?"

"I think they are a fool's errand. No one can bring back the dead. Nor should we try." His voice was very tired. Tom wondered who Dumbledore would bring back if he had a way.

Hermione nodded. "The hallows are like a muggle magician's slight of hand. They make you think one thing, while they are really doing something entirely different. The 'unbeatable' wand is powerful but tends to make the wielder more violent and unstable. The stone appeared to resurrect the holder's loved ones, but in reality it lured the holder to death…the cloak…the cloak can give you a false sense of invulnerability, and you forget that there is only a thin cloak between you and the battle." Her voice caught.

She caressed the book, lost in old thoughts.

"As always Miss Granger, I am astounded by the depth of your knowledge."

She looked up. "It's not as if a Hallows quest were that unusual. It's the kind of thing that comes into vogue once every couple of hundred years and it has for the past thousand."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "I suppose I never thought of it that way. When one is young, everything is new."

Tom realized that it was very personal to the older wizard. "Did you go on a quest sir?"

He shook his head sadly. "No Tom. I was planning one, but…familial obligations deterred me." He sensed that he would get no more from Dumbledore. Hermione was clutching the book in her hands.

"Do you think I might borrow this sir…just for a while?" Her voice was tender, longing.

Part of Tom hated the fact that she was sad. The other part of Tom hated the boy she'd been friends with before.

 **TRTRTRTR**

Hermione was knee deep in her studies again, muttering to herself. She had smears of ink on her fingers, her hair in a bun, and a three foot stack of notes.

He was as fond of studies as the next person, but he felt restless.

He left her in the library and walked out to the Quidditch pitch. The broom Malfoy had given him was a 'base model' of the Cleansweep line. It might not have all the bells and whistles that some of the brooms had, but it was one of the fastest brooms on the pitch, and it handled well. Refreshed, he took the broom down, intending to spend some time cleaning it.

Abraxas was waiting.

"Tom." His voice was unusually solemn. "You are invited." He put a small, intricate scroll in his hands and marched off without another word.

 _Dear Mr. Riddle,_

 _You are hereby invited to join the Knights of Walpurgis, a noble order that has been at Hogwarts since its inception. If you wish to join, simply say 'yes' out loud, and meet us in the forbidden Forrest tonight. The scroll will guide you. If you do not wish to join, or if you try to tell any other living soul about the knights, this scroll will remove all memory of this invitation from your mind and it will never be offered again._

Tom wasn't certain if he should join some dodgy group, but the scroll was ancient and powerful. It felt…familiar somehow. He looked closely and the sides were decorated with serpents. He ran one finger along the scaled hide of one of the engravings. Also, Malfoy had invited him and the older boy had rarely led him astray.

He took a deep breath and said, "Yes."

The scroll glowed a bit and he felt a tug toward the forest.

Tom took out his wand. He was going in, but he was going in with his eyes open and his wand ready.


	27. Chapter 27

_**AN: Last week, the power was out on my writing day and lost most of this chapter. I had to re-write it. Sundays are my only free time during April and May…If I can't update on Sunday, I may not get one in that week. For those who panicked and thought I was discontinuing the story, please don't worry. I started this thing because I didn't have a choice, and if I have to write it, I might as well share it. (Yes, this plot bunny is heavily armed and aggressive).**_

The forest was cool and dark after the bright sunlight near the school. He allowed the scroll to pull him forward through the trees.

Seven hooded figures stood in a grove, with eerie green flames floating around them. They did not say a word as he entered the grove.

He felt a spell close as he entered. A voice he recognized as Abraxas' filled the clearing.

"The Knights of Walpurgis welcome you. We are the Most Noble Order of Cassiopeia. Founded by Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, keepers of Wizarding society. We safeguard tradition and magic from those who would sully it."

Tom didn't laugh. He knew these things were quite serious. But he'd basically been invited to the wizarding equivalent of a little boy's club house. The only thing missing was a sign that said no girlz allowed.

"If you would join our order, Initiate, the scroll must find you worthy. There are three tests. Power, Intelligence, and Potential. If you fail, the scroll will erase all knowledge of the Order from your mind, and this will never be mentioned again. Do accept?"

Tom's voice did not waver. "I do."

The feeling of the scroll scanning his being was decidedly odd. It was an itch behind his eyeballs, a tug at his toes, a whisper too soft to hear. And then it was gone and he was holding the scroll in the midst of the other students.

The masks came off and there was much back pounding and shaking of hands.

"I knew you'd be the one to replace me!" Abraxas was practically bubbling.

"How did you know that?" Tom raised a brow.

"Intuition. I have a fine eye for talent!"

One of the other older boys groaned. "And the scrolls pick Slytherins at a two to one ratio. I suspect old Salazar must have insisted on arranging the portion of the spell that chooses."

Tom snorted. "Don't be daft. He probably insisted that Godric do it, and then manipulated him into volunteering for a half dozen other bits of the project. Then, when he was overwhelmed and running behind schedule, Salazar reproachfully agreed to help Godric finish…just so everything was on schedule, mind you…"

The boy, who was a seventh year Gryffindor, groaned.

Abraxas laughed good-naturedly, and clapped him on the back. "And now you see why the scroll chose him. No one better!"

Tom stilled for a moment, realizing that all the participants were undoubtedly male.

The group bandied words about for some time. Tom kept a pleasant expression on his face until he and Abraxas were walking back to the dungeons.

"I hope you don't intend for me to keep this from Hermione."

The blond smirked. "The two of you have no secrets?"

Tom shrugged. "You know that's not true. But I certainly don't want to have to lie to her about coming and going from a stupid club. You know how she is about lies. Anyone who spends that much time carefully _not_ lying has a reason for it."

"Perhaps she loses her talent for seeing the future if she ever lies about it?"

Tom chuckled, and stopped. "Is that possible?"

"It would be a powerful curse to change the nature of prophesy. I'm not saying it's impossible…"

"Whatever she has, it's not infallible. She's said it herself when she's misdirecting someone: what kind of seer would allow herself to be…" He cleared his throat. I just would rather not hide something like this from her, so you'd better have one of those scrolls for her if you want me to stay."

"That's very noble of you. Sure you were sorted into the right house?"

Tom snorted, not deigning to reply.

"There is only one scroll. It chooses. There have been a few witches in the Knights. I've been arguing to give Hermione an invitation, particularly since that duel."

"Why is that a factor?"

"The Knights protect wizarding society. Some generations it is with wands. Many members have gone into politics, and have become professors. Whatever needs to be done to protect the society from all enemies, internal and external. "

"Seems like a fairly broad definition."

Abraxas shrugged elegantly. "Honestly, this particular group of knights view it mostly as a way to get ahead. Members are honor bound to help their brothers if they can while maintaining integrity. But yes. One never knows what the threat will be. And Salazar and Godric knew that sometimes you need to be on opposite ends of the spectrum to balance it out. The knights give us a safe place to meet and discuss things, even when we believe in different threats."

This made an ironic sort of sense to Tom. It highlighted how things were actually done in the Wizarding world as opposed to how things appeared to be done. A generational system like this that chose power players from a limited pool (leaning heavily to those that would naturally be traditionalists) and binding them together in secret made things quite…interesting. Difficult to predict, difficult to overthrow.

"And Hermione?"

"As I said, I am campaigning to allow her to join. I have approval for Nott to be tested next. If he passes the test, there is a good chance we will have enough votes to induct Hermione."

Tom sighed. It didn't sound like a quick process. "Fine. She's a bit distracted at the moment, so when we have meetings I'll tell her I am with you. That way we won't be lying. That said, if this takes too long, she'll slip into my mind and find out herself."

"I wonder if that would alert the scroll?" Abraxas shook his head. "Don't get your brains scrambled because you lack patience. I need you here watching over things once I'm gone. As soon as I graduate I'll wed the Olivander chit and be neck deep in familial obligations for nearly a year. Hogwarts takes constant supervision. Even the distraction of my father dying has led to a rash of bullying."

Tom looked at the other boy in surprise. "You really are the most narcissistic person I've ever met."

"How so?"

"Grindelwald had Lestrange here in the castle, spying. I assume she was also preaching pure blood dogma. It's not one of his obsessions, per se, but it is one of hers'."

"You think that accounts for the sudden uptick in accidents and fights?"

"I am certain it does."

Abraxas let out a sigh. "That is excellent news. I was worried the school was going to go to hell in a hand basket once I left!"

"You should name your first son Narcissus."

"Merlin, don't wish that on the boy. And don't mention it to my annoying bride-to-be. She's not the brightest creature. She might think it is a lovely idea."

Tom felt something twinge inside him. He gripped the other boy's arm. "I am sorry."

Abraxas shrugged. "Don't worry over it. My blushing bride won't be around too terribly long. Mother made certain her proclivities would exile her to some far flung estate in due time."

Tom snorted. "Your mother is one of the more frightening individuals I've ever encountered."

Abraxas grinned. "You have no idea my friend."

Tom rather thought he had a better idea than Abraxas did. And thinking of Helena Malfoy gave him an idea

"How many times have you mentioned Hermione to the Knights?"

"Only once in the group. I've been feeling them out since your first year, waiting for the right time to introduce you."

"We need to make them think that including her was their idea."

Abraxas gave him a slow grin, one that made his face seem less perfect, but somehow a bit more real.

"What did you have in mind?"


	28. Chapter 28

_**AN: Sorry this is so late! Gellert was quite insistent that I show his trip and he wouldn't take no for an answer…he kept trying to hijack the story! (Pushy git). It's probably time again to mention that anything you recognize is JKR's. I'll update again next week.**_

Tom surveyed his handy work with a slight smirk. He could have merely made a verbal case for the Knights of Walpurgis; tried to reason with them. He could have done that.

This was both more interesting and (potentially) more effective.

Abraxas walked into the common room and nodded. "I think will work nicely Tom."

There were several hold outs in the Knights concerning the induction of a certain witch amongst them. Mostly, they had their own candidates in mind. (No one wanted Slytherins to sweep the nominations for the year either. Except Abraxas of course, who was chortling with glee over the idea.)

Two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff had already been rejected by the scroll, but there were a number of male candidates that had been pushed forward in the interminable meetings. Tom was very unhappy at the idea of being a member of the group without Hermione there to break up the tedium.

So Tom designed a little demonstration of Hermione's prowess.

He had a box of small bird-like objects. They were charmed to attack any member of the knights that they encountered, and specifically shielded against their spells. That tricky bit of spell work had cost him a sleepless night or two.

The timing was perfect. Dumbledore was absent for many meals at the moment, and Flitwick was tutoring during lunches. That left nothing but Dippet and Merrythought to defend the students.

Tom hid the box in the great hall. He waited until lunch was nearly over. Then he shot a non-verbal spell at the box and released the birds.

The little things sought their targets with precision. Tom ducked behind Rosier. The other boy's painful yelps told Tom everything he needed to know about the effectiveness of the projectiles.

Hermione hexed the first one into tiny bits as Tom and Abraxas tried to throw hexes of their own.

Abraxas cursed in Bulgarian as his spell rebounded. "They are shielded against the targets!"

Hermione let out a shriek and took out three with a single curse.

"Get behind me. Your spells won't work." She didn't hold back as the bits of the metallic birds continued to fly. Nott and two of the other members of the knights dove behind her. The ones that tried to fend for themselves were left holding silver platters and ducking behind benches with little or no success.

While vicious, the little metallic birds were not formidable foes. Within minutes of when the attack began, nothing was left of them but twitching springs and warped bits of metal.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Her hair was curling fiercely on her sweaty brow.

Tom shrugged. "Looks like a nasty prank. Maybe someone wanted to take out leaders in all four houses?" He met the eyes of several of his fellow knights. It was quite clear that someone knew who they were and meant to target them. There were grim looks on the faces of the other boys. Tom made a mental note to pin the attack on Grindelwald. Not only would it keep him from getting caught, it would also make it less likely that the man would find allies inside the castle.

Hermione huffed. "Someone was an idiot. And when I catch them they will regret this bit of adolescent madness." No one who saw her could doubt her sincerity.

Tom caught Abraxas' eye and grinned. The knights looked impressed. The votes should be forthcoming.

Now he just had to make certain she never found out that he was the one who had pulled the 'prank'. Some things were better left unsaid, even between best friends.

TRTRTR

Gellert ignored his companion's string of curse words in muttered French. In his opinion, cursing never sounded right in the romance languages. They were too smooth, too soft, for proper cursing.

When a woman from the Baltics cursed you, she took the hide from your body with her words. Hearing a Frenchman curse after his upbringing was like drinking watered beer to one used to strong vodka.

Gellert pulled up a charming smile, despite his weariness with the chase.

"What troubles you my friend?"

The beautiful Jean-Marie Basset pulled a spider the size of a dinner plate out of his sleeping bag. "I do not understand why you needed me here my lord. I am surely more use to you in cities…"

There was some small amusement to be had from the young Frenchman's disgust with all things rural. However, this wasn't the time to show it. He hid his own annoyance and clapped the other man on the back.

He tried to explain _again_. As he'd tried multiple times when his loyal servant wined like a toddler that he was mildly inconvenienced. It was so hard to find good lackeys.

"These muggles are at war with Muggles that sound a bit like my people. They are allied with Muggles from your country. If I had brought my own countrymen they would have questioned me, made it harder to find that which I seek." Under his jovial tone, there was always a purring hint of violence.

The Frenchman did not push his luck. "I do not understand my lord, but I obey."

Gellert turned his attention to other matters.

They were currently lounging under a huge broom wood tree. The aborigines were giving them a wide berth because their own magic workers were well integrated with the population. He was aware they were observing them, (they had the highest percentage of animagus in the world, which made spying rather simple).

He'd even spoken with a few of the local wizards, but they'd never heard tale of a magic device that lent invisibility. There were plenty of stories of magical berries and water…both of which worked in fact. But nothing about a cloak.

As for the British-born contingent of wizards in Australia…they were a tiny, insular community where strangers were not welcomed. He'd slipped among them using polyjuice often enough to surmise that the cloak was not among them.

Jean Marie was examining his boot with the tip of his wand, looking certain that some creature was going to scuttle out of it any moment. "What if the girl simply lied, my lord?"

Gellert shook his head thoughtfully. "No. She was setting me a puzzle to be sure but I could tell there was no lie in her voice."

There had been something though...a hint of amusement? He looked around the campsite, across the desolate Australian landscape...

"Very well my friend. Perhaps you are correct. I assumed that the cloak would make itself known to me, as the rightful owner..."

He had perpetuated the myth that he was a descendant of the eldest Peverell brother since he'd acquired the Deathstick. Though the rumor was both false and perpetuated entirely by himself, it would not do to drop the pretense even in this remote place.

Jean Marie shrugged in that annoying Gaelic way...a movement that could indicate anything from flirtation to deadly rage. In this case it most likely indicated that any excuse to leave the country and return to civilization would do.

Gellert toyed with the idea of coming up with a pretense to leave the younger wizard down under for a bit...then discarded it. As amusingly sadistic as it might have been, the man was too close to many of the first families of the UK and Europe. He needed the man at his side as a token.

"We shall return my friend. Back to good food, good wine, and good company. There will be time enough to hunt my prizes. I think I shall pay another visit to the little seer over the summer. Dumbledore can not keep her from me forever. Even the most complex enchantments can be undone if one has enough time and power."

Jean brightened. "This is true. Perhaps I might be allowed to find the girl myself my lord? I am quite adept at winning ladies to our cause."

It _was_ true. The man was good for little else besides wining and torturing muggles.

Gellert shrugged. "Lestrange was not up to the task and despite her flaws, she is normally quite inventive. Perhaps you shall be the one to woo them to my side. We shall make plans once we return. Choose three good men to accompany you. Willing or no, I want her, and the boy as well. He is deliciously dark. Having one will guarantee the good behavior of the other." He gave the other man a mock-concerned frown. "Be especially careful of Dumbledore. He might look soft, but he's quite powerful and ruthless when the occasion calls for it."

Jean Marie laughed. "I look forward to proving myself my lord. I am the equal of any wizard alive in my element." He grinned cockily at Grindlewald.

Gellert pretended to grin back. He could wait. At some point the other man's usefulness would be at an end. And then...what followed would be amusing.


	29. Chapter 29

_**AN: Another short-ish chapter. I hope to start next week's chapter tomorrow, so it might be a bit longer. Again, until I can get my schedule under control, updates will be shorter.**_

 _ **Thanks to all of you who do understand that (alas) my life cannot revolve around writing…at least not until I get fabulously wealthy and finish raising my child.**_

Jean Marie paced the golden wood of the exquisite suite of rooms he'd procured in the heart of London. After so many months in the hinterlands of Australia, it was a relief to be back in his natural element. The muggle bombs bothered him not a whit. His shield charms were more than a match for any muggle contrivance…and as for the Muggles themselves…a simple charm made them believe that he was the rightful lord of these lovely rooms and they served him well. It was their nature, after all. The poor creatures had little more wit than house eves and were at least as violent as goblins. They were making a hash of his beloved countryside with their petty squabbles across the channel.

But his lord would end that.

Grindlewald would put the muggles in their proper place. With Jean Marie by his side, a partner in all things.

The man allowed himself a cruel chuckle.

All he needed to do was find those children and convince them of the truth.

There were many ways to do so. He would try persuasion…first. They were to be his lord's allies, his pupils. Eventually, one or he other would probably warm Gellart's bed for a time. The wizard had varied tastes and an eye for beauty. The boy was stunning…the girl…interesting and she would be as pretty as she cared to be. She had magic enough to see to that. Beauty wasn't ever out of reach for a powerful witch or wizard.

All was in place. When they returned back to their squalid orphanage, the games would begin.

Jean Marie grinned.

 **HGHGHG**

When Hermione finally found a copy of Mistika it was both a surprise and embarrassingly obvious. Albus had a rather extensive library in his rooms (the castle liked the man enough to remodel his rooms to encompass his collection). A few weeks before the end of term he'd brought the book to class.

He stopped her as she was leaving transfiguration. "I'm afraid that I gave up the idea of the stone almost as soon as I began alchemy."

She looked into his twinkling eyes. "You feared that much power in your own hands."

"I wanted it rather badly, which is generally a sure sign that I should not have it."

She shrugged. "Perhaps…but you seem to take an all or nothing view of things more often than you should. Moderation does exist, and you are a grown wizard in your prime who is quite capable of exercising it, if you choose. Even with such a thing as power." She kept most of the bite out of her voice. How much better would the Ministry have been if Dumbledore had taken the reigns in hand after Voldemort disappeared? At the very least, the mess she'd grown up with would have been less of a mess. Then again…time had a way of sorting itself out. And this way, if she could manage it, the light wouldn't lose Tom.

Her heart constricted a bit at the thought of losing him now. He was as dear to her as Harry had been.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and handed her the book.

Her eyes widened as she read the title.

"A little bird told me that you were searching for this." His eyes twinkled again.

Hermione laughed as he placed the book in her hands and waved at Fawks as she sang outside the castle.

"Remind me that I owe that little bird a treat."

"He is uncommonly fond of Bertie Bott's every flavor beans…I can't stand the things myself."

Hermione allowed herself a mischievous smile. "Come across a vomit flavored one?" Harry had told her that once…many years before…or ahead…next to a dying camp fire in a dreary forest while a horocrux rested between them.

Dumbledore frowned. She tossed off her morbid mood. "Lucky guess. They _do_ say every flavor. I'm not a fan of them myself."

"You have a rather brilliant record of deduction and lucky guesses my dear. Remind me never to bet against you."

She smiled. "Being rather exceptional, I find that my mistakes are equally exceptional." Her face probably showed her sadness.

Dumbledore sent her gently to her away.

A few days later, Perenelle sent the translation spell that she'd promised. Hermione cursed in the common room, making a sixth year girl jump into the arms of one of the statues.

Tom looked up from his own book. "Should we take a walk?"

She nodded silently and waited until there were in an abandoned hallway. "I swear Perenelle is trying to kill me."

"Let me guess, the book leads to another set of calculations, even more desperately tricky than the first."

"Got it in one. It indicates a system of calculations based on the inverse of the classic properties of the alchemical symbols as a way to check the calculations for flaws."

"So, the opposite of fire would be ice, earth would be…sand?"

"In the classic arrangement all four elements have a natural opposite. This is more like an unnatural opposite. The opposite of Earth, the symbol of healing, is Death. The opposite of Fire is Cold. It's tricky. The whole thing is unnaturally tricky."

"If it were easy everyone would have a philosopher's stone."

She tried to explain. "It isn't that. Magic has a pattern. There's a flow to even the most complex enchantments. This…this doesn't have a flow. I keep looking for it, but the more calculations we add, the less of it I can see."

Tom was nodding. "I thought it was because it is such complex magic."

Hermione shook her head. "No. The more powerful the magic is, the easier it is to see the natural path the magic has to take. You don't see it with your eyes, but it has to take that path…you see?"

"Yes. So do you think the stone is simply an elaborate ruse?"

"With living proof like the Flamel's? No, but I think the books on it may be leading us astray. I want to regroup over the summer and do some new experiments."

Tom groaned. "Put it off another year?"

Hermione grimaced as she slid under his arm. The odds were good she wouldn't be growing much more. He was already close to his adult height too. "If we have to. I feel like we need some time with a lab to hammer through this."

She knew she looked forlorn. She hated the orphanage. She hated it more every year as she was ripped away from magic and submerged in a place that swirled with darkness.

Her lips thinned. "I want to fix it."

Tom's brows snapped together as she realized she'd only said part of her thought out loud. "Fix what?"

"Everything. But right now I want to fix the orphanage system. I want to make sure no other child grows up in what you endured. I want magical children to be adopted by magical families so they never have to be in a world without magic as well as a world without their parents…"

She would have gone on, but Tom pulled her close and kissed the bloody daylights out of her.

When she finally pulled away, they were both panting. "Merlin Tom. We're only in third year. You shouldn't even know how to kiss like that."

He smirked. "What can I say? I'm a natural." He traced her lips with a finger. "I love how you always defend me. That you even defend other people who might be like me. No one has ever done that for me."

She cupped his face. "Everyone should have someone to defend them."

His kissed her softly, lips so gentle, saying more than his words ever could. He pulled her into his arms and rested his head on hers'.

"I am your person Hermione. Everyone deserves someone that will defend them against anything. That's me."

 **TRTRTRTR**

Days before the end of term, Tom showed up, grinning like a madman. She'd learned to value those grins actually, the times when he didn't bother to hide what he really was behind the beautiful mask; didn't remember to control his face so it was never too wide, too frightening. When all that fierce, sharp joy showed through his eyes.

That was the real Tom Riddle. He was overwhelming to most people, even when he didn't mean to be. His passions were always in danger of consuming him and everything around him. People would catch a glimpse behind the polite even mask, and sense the raging inferno behind his courteous smiles. They instinctively knew that fire was dangerous and they could easily be caught in it. Fire wasn't picky what it burned, and Tom was a creature of fire.

Alchemy had given her a new frame work to understand her world, and even at her age, she was enjoying it. (Though to be honest, she couldn't tell her own age at this point. She had all of her memories from her first life, but they lost immediacy in a way that memories had not done as she aged. Perhaps because this brain hadn't lived through the emotions, the memories were not laced with _this_ body's adrenaline.

Whatever the reason, this life felt fresh and new, like spring leaves after a rain. Her old one was fading…not like it had never been, but she didn't morn for the things she lost as much. She trusted the light side that there would be no loss if she never returned to her proper place…that those she once loved would not suffer her absence. Perhaps, they would be far happier since she was determined that the world would be a better place once she finished here. It was the only option.

The thoughts flashed across her mind in a mere instant. Tom offered her an ancient-looking silver scroll.

She opened it.

And let lose a string of curse words inside her head that would have shocked Tom (and he had brewed with her, so that was saying something).

All of her former ruminations about things being less immediate fell the wayside as a wave of sheer irritation engulfed her.

She'd always known there was a secret organization: an old-boy's club in the wizarding world. And here was proof.

All of the times she'd prepared, lobbied, and fought for new laws. How many times had they been stalled in committee? Died in closed sessions?

She'd told herself not to be paranoid: the pureblood prejudice was ingrained and had real financial implications for most of the wizarding world when she rocked the boat. She told herself that it was simply people protecting their own self-interest, and really she couldn't blame them for that.

But here was proof that it was very likely that it was an organized resistance.

She fumed. Someone in her group had probably known for Circe's sake. Author Weasley? Certainly Bill had. She doubted that there were many head boys that came through with pure blood that were excluded.

Tom caught her eye, and his eyes were troubled.

Reminding her why she was here.

She pulled a smile up from somewhere. The little scroll was tugging at her consciousness, urging her to give an answer to the invitation.

"I accept".

After all. She could always ferment rebellion from the inside once she joined.


	30. Chapter 30

_**AN: Sorry for that unexpected break! I had the opportunity to take extra hours at work. Couldn't turn it down. I'm worn out, but it was all worth it. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. Expect the next update on Sunday.**_

The wedding of Abraxas Malfoy and Helga Ollivander was the social highlight of the year for anyone who was anyone in purblood circles.

That wasn't why Hermione was there of course. She was there because Abraxas, the prima donna, had demanded that she and Tom come directly to the manor once school ended. He'd even convinced Dippett to allow them to use the floo rather than travel on the express, which might have been the only part of the plan Dumbledore approved of.

Regardless of who might or might not approve, Hermione found herself on the sixth of June, wearing a fine set of robes courtesy of Helena Malfoy and wishing she'd been able to skip the bloody ball altogether.

She was contemplating getting another cup of punch when two of the matrons plopped down in the settee only a few feet away. She had a fairly powerful notice-me-not charm on at the moment…she needed a bit of a break.

They seemed to be in the middle of a friendly debate. "It's not as if the last Malfoy was much of catch, since I'm not equipped to play pitcher."

"Wilfrieda!"

"What? It's nothing but the truth. We all know some men have certain preferences…but that one seemed to be content to keep for the home team entirely. If Abraxas didn't have the Malfoy look, one would wonder…"

The first witch chortled. "Wonder what kind of lust potions they used."

"Had to have been glamour." They giggled like a couple of particularly annoying forth year girls and Hermione suspected they'd already had too much Champaign.

The second matron turned a bleary eye to Abraxas, who was having a hard time keeping a pleasant expression on his face as he led his new bride in a waltz. She scratched her towering wig, causing the powdered monstrosity to list slightly to the left. "The last Malfoy might not have been much of a catch, but this one has more assets…" She craner her head to keep him in view.

The second matron turned her head to stare at the young man's…assets in the tight britches now that he'd discarded the formal robes for dancing. "You won't find those in Gringots."

The first matron snorted into her wine. Hermione was certain she saw something floating in there.

A high-pitched grating laugh tore through the room like a Cruciatus curse. Abraxas was hiding an appalled look at the sound that had just came out of his new bride.

The two matrons looked at the couple in mild distaste. "I hear that one won't appreciate his assets."

The other matron cocked her head, making the wig list in the other direction. "The more fool she. She wouldn't have been in the running as his bride at all if her brother had still been around to inherit."

"Really?"

"Really. Dragon pox. Passed through the veil last year. If they'd had to split the family vault, she would have been lucky to land a Goyle. As it is, her fortune wouldn't have been enough to induce him to wed her if it hadn't been for the curse."

The other matron scoffed. "I'm not certain it's a curse. The Malfoy men have always gone their own way, taking lovers as they chose. I think the curse might just be their way of explaining it all."

She smacked like Abraxas was a particularly appealing truffle. "Pity he'll be busy getting her with child for the next year. I'd like to tutor that one personally." The two old biddies laughed, much to Hermione's disgust.

Really. It wasn't as if she'd never been that age. Scorpius Malfoy had been quite fit if she remembered correctly. And yes, she and Ginny had ogled him a bit (during his late twenties) but she was certain they'd never been so vulgar about it.

She wished she could leave. Tom was also dancing; he was playing the perfect young squire to one of the Greengrass girls.

Abraxas finished his dance and his bride wandered out of the room. He shot a finite in her general direction, which negated her charm as well as toppling the wig of the first matron, who made a sound like a cat drenched in ice water.

Abraxas didn't even pretend to look abashed as he strode to her corner.

"May I have this dance?"

"How did you know where I was hiding?"

"Looked for the place where my mind naturally wanted to avoid and an empty spot. The charms not hard to overcome if you know someone is using it." He gave her a devilish grin. "Now will you put me out of my misery and dance with me at least once?"

What could she say?

"Of course…"

 **TRTRTR**

Tom tried not glare as Malfoy danced with Hermione. It was the man's funeral…well wedding (same thing in this case, in Tom's opinion.) If anyone could use Hermione's presence at the moment, it was the blond prat who was about to go try to seduce a woman who wasn't compatible with him in any way. The whole thing was going to be a mess. On one hand, he appreciated that Malfoy needed their presence today. On the other hand, he'd told the man repeatedly to get his own witch. He was rather tired of sharing _his witch_ because Malfoy couldn't seem to make a friend of his own.

Traditionally the couple should have left together to keep up appearances, but even this soon in the marriage, neither of them were interested. Instead, the bride had gone to her rooms (followed by a 'dear friend') and Abraxas was gliding across the room with Hermione, looking more cheerful than he had in weeks.

He found that he'd wandered to the bar. Distraction like that wasn't like him. Tom Riddle never wandered. He always had a reason for every step he took.

He heard a glass bottle slide toward him. "Butterbeer?" An older man in creased bartender's uniform smiled as he left the bottle in Tom's reach. He went back to pouring himself shots. Elves were doing most of the real work. The wizard was behind the bar mainly for show.

"Drink up. You look like you could use one. I brought those in from the Three Broomsticks since the groom was so young. Figured we'd have a few guests that would appreciate them." Meaning Tom was too young to drink firewhiskey. There was a small part of him that wanted to rebel against that assumption, but that was best done later, in private. The last thing he needed was to lose control here among people he intended to impress. So he toasted the bartender with a friendly smile that Hermione would have recognized.

The other man didn't flinch, so he obviously didn't understand the smile.

"Let me guess…girl trouble?"

Tom snorted. "Best friend trouble, but never girl trouble." His eyes were drawn back to the dance.

The bartender whistled, low. "You want the one Malfoy is ignoring his bride for? You don't do things by halves boy. The Malfoys have a reputation. Unless you are interested in the boy, you'd best back off. Once they claim someone as theirs, they don't give it back."

"I don't want him." Tom spat it out. "She's my girlfriend, not his. She's just dancing with our best friend."

The man cocked an eyebrow at Tom. Then looked back at the couple on the floor. "I suppose you could be right. That dance doesn't look like a seduction."

Tom laughed. "It bloody well isn't. Hermione is as loyal as a Hufflepuff and Malfoy is a prat, but underneath, he's a good man under all that hair."

The bartender snickered and poured himself a shot. "I like you kid. You seem to have a better head on your shoulders than most." He took his shot and stuck out his hand. "Bob Ogden."

"Like Ogden's finest?"

"The same, though I wonder how you know that lad. I've only been in business for five years."

Tom pretended to take another swig of his drink. "What did you do before?" No need to mention that Ogden's was already a byword for whiskey in the Slytherin common room.

"MLE. Twenty years of pushing papers and trying not to get pulled into office politics that were mostly aimed at feuds that started before my grandfather was born. I'm well out of it. I decided that if I was going to spend all of my time drinking whiskey, I should probably learn to brew it. And what's your name, Romeo?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Tom Riddle."

"Halfblood?"

"Orphan. So, no idea really."

Bob Ogden nodded but didn't offer any pity beyond pushing another bottle toward Tom, who wasn't half done with his first. Perhaps drinking with a professional alcoholic wasn't the best choice for an incoming fourth year.

Bob seemed to look at him hard. "It's funny, but I'd swear I've seen a face like yours before."

Tom brightened at that. "Oh?"

Ogden nodded. "On a case, years ago. I'm pretty sure the man's name was Riddle. Might have even been Tom. He was a muggle who ran afoul of the Gaunt family a few times. We had to reverse some nasty spells, more than once."

"Why were they harassing him if he was a Muggle?" Tom frowned. Just when he thought he'd gotten a lead…

"I was MLE, so I missed part of the case, but from what I could gather, the Gaunt girl had a thing for the Muggle. Her family reacted like the pure bloods do…and if she'd ever had a chance with the boy she didn't after her brother was done with him."

"If?"

Ogden grinned. "Well he was a handsome lad, that Riddle. And his father was a squire. Not a lord, but they had money enough. And the Gaunts…not to put too fine a point on it, but they were poor, and they'd been breeding with their cousins too long. Old Marvolio Gaunt practically jumped down my throat when I presented the papers to bring his son in."

"Did you say Marvolio?"

"I remember his name well. I had to write it on dozens of reports. Nasty bit of work. Cowed his daughter to the point where she couldn't seem to speak in front of him, just kept making these hissing noises. Odd family. The father and son ended up in Azkaban. We never figured out where the daughter went. I hope she had a good life. Riddle might have been a squire's son, but he was a pompous ass. Girl deserved something better than that. It took us months to sort it all out. Riddle left and showed up one day, claiming he'd been 'tricked' into marrying a witch. As if a witch would use a love potion on a muggle." Ogden laughed, and Tom restrained himself. Hexing the man at the party wouldn't do wonders for the image of the bright, charismatic Tom Riddle that he needed to be until Hogwarts was done.

Tom pretended to take another swig of his drink and topped off Bob Ogden's glass. "Out of curiosity, what town was this in?"

 **TRTRTR**

Hermione didn't fight him a week later as they snuck out of the Malfoy residence. If all went well, they wouldn't be missed. Abraxas was busy with his new bride, and they'd informed the elves they wouldn't be I for dinner. Helena Malfoy was out. Once they finished their stay with the Malfoy family, they were supposed to go to the Flamel's for a few weeks. If Helena was difficult to fool, Perenelle would be worse.

Hermione lifted her wand into the air and hailed the Knight Carriage. A couple of knuts and a torturous hour later, they were dumped out on a deserted road near a foreboding 'great house'. They could see a ramshackle shack in the distance.

Tom glared in the direction the carriage had taken as he helped Hermione up and dusted of his suit.

"Who in Merlin's name thought that the Carriage was a good idea?"

Hermione shrugged. "Better than getting caught doing magic. I supposed we could have stolen Abraxas' brooms and used a charm, but I didn't want to use the floo. At least the 'bus isn't directly monitored by the ministry."

She truly hoped they wouldn't need that extra bit of precaution, but she feared they might.

Which was why they were both wearing glamours that were tied to bracelets. She'd gotten the idea from Fred and George's invisibility hats. No need for anyone to know they'd been to this town…just in case.

She took his hand. "Let's go, I suppose."

 **TRTRTR**

Tom removed his bracelet as they walked up the road. "Take your bracelet off."

"I don't want to leave a memory people an access. They need to see you, not me."

"Hermione, I hate it when you look like someone else. Besides, we can always obliviate them."

Hermione shrugged. "True, but a wizard like Grindlewald could still break through the charm if he tortured them enough."

Tom looked at her with wide eyes. Her voice was sad. He didn't ask questions though. He wrapped one arm around her and kissed her cheek. "Be yourself."

She pulled the bracelet off.

Tom knocked at the door with his most charming smile. The maid who answered fainted dead at his feet. A sneering butler eventually showed up. "I need to speak to Mr. Riddle."

"You will wait in the blue parlor with your…companion. If you steal anything boy, I will know."

Tom clutched his wand but Hermione stilled his hand. "They aren't worth it."

A few minutes later a woman with over-styled grey hair and a pinched face walked into the room. Her hand flew to the broach on her neck when she saw Tom. Her husband entered a moment later, deep frown lines permanently etched on his face.

They looked at each other in shock for a moment as Tom stood. "I'd like to introduce myself…"

Another voice came from the other doorway. A dissolute, aging man wound his way into the room with a full drink in his hand. Apparently it was the latest in a series.

"I know who you are. Little bastard."

Tom raised a brow as he looked up at his father. His face was under complete control, which of course meant that he was furious. "Actually, as far as I know, my mother was married to you when I was born. So not in the literal interpretation."

"Tea." The woman, Tom's grandmother, finally spoke. "Bradford is bringing tea. Everyone sit, and we will discuss this issue like reasonable adults."

Tom inclined his head, but allowed Hermione to take one of his hands. "If the adults can act like adults, I suppose the children can as well."

The old man growled, "None of your cheek boy, or you won't get what you came for."

Tom raised a brow. "And what was that grandfather?"

His wife put a quelling hand on her husband's arm. "We are willing enough to make some provision for you. You are, quite obviously, our blood. As long as you don't have the…problem your mother had."

Tom raised both brows. "I'm not sure what you are referring to. My mother died when I was born. I managed to trace you by the name."

The elder Riddles looked at each other and seemed to relax.

Tom Sr. stared at him. "It's like looking twenty years into the past, looking at you. Who was your mother boy?"

"My name is Tom. Don't know how many women you've married?"

The older man flinched. "You don't know what you are talking about…that woman…she…she was the devil." The grown man started shaking.

His mother looked at him with concern. "You'll have to excuse Tomas. He's not well…hasn't been himself since…well not for years."

Tom put all the power he could muster behind his words. "What happened?"

The older man got up and poured himself a drink as the superior looking butler served tea to the rest of them. "Your mother happened boy. One day Tom was a fine strapping lad, envy of the county…the next, he was gone, somehow tricked into marrying a tramp's daughter. He's not been the same since."

Hermione looked at the way the man had gone. "He seems to have had some sort of breakdown."

The eldest Riddle slopped his drink as he spun to face Hermione. "Did I give you permission to speak girl?"

Hermione snorted. "You might own the house and the land, but slavery has been illegal for quite some time."

The man's eyes went bloodshot. He wife put a calming hand on his arm as he passed.

"Tom never married and never produced an heir. He had the marriage with your mother annulled. When he dies, all of this will go to a distant cousin." She indicated the house and grounds. Tom and Hermione shrugged. While grand, they weren't a patch on Malfoy manor.

Whatever they might have been about to say was silenced as Tomas returned to the room, empty glass in one hand, and revolver in his right.

"He's just like her! I can feel it in my bones…both of them! Get away mother, if you get too close they'll enspell you…"

Hermione rose and pulled out her wand. "Honestly! I've never seen such manners."

Mrs. Riddle let loose with a little scream. "You said you didn't have it."

Tom gave then a slightly sadistic smirk. "I said I didn't know what you were talking about. I could guess, but I didn't know, now did I?"

Tom's father didn't give them a moment to regroup, he simply started firing.

Hermione tossed up a wandless shield between them and the madman. "Tom, don't use your wand." He looked rebellious, but he didn't use his wand. He waited until the shots were fired and then pounced on the older man. He was still strong and he was more experienced, but Tom was nearly as tall, and his muscles were hardened by Quidditch and working at the orphanage. Within moments he was pounding the other man's head into the marble floor.

Mrs. Riddle was screaming that she was going to call the police. Hermione gave her a withering look. "For what, avoiding dying?"

They were rushed out of the house, and the butler smirked at them as he shut the door firmly in their faces.

"Well that went well." Hermione grinned slightly as he fought his temper.

"I don't know why I expected anything else."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tom, that's not what anyone should expect when meeting family for the first time. Generally most fathers don't try to shoot their sons."

"I've always known I was special."

She smiled. "C'mon. Let's go find a place where the Knight Carriage can pick us up."

They started walking, but it wasn't very long before they found a lane…it was dark, even in the summer sun. A rundown cottage with graying wood stood with dead snakes lining the drive. Tom took a step forward, but Hermione wrapped her hand around his arm.

"Do you really want this?"

"I need to know."

She sighed and took out her wand.

They were no more than a quarter of the way up the drive when a man dropped out of the trees, wild hair, unwashed, cross-eyed. He had a dirty knife in one hand, and a bone-colored wand in the other.

Tom hissed. _"Stop."_

" _You speak it? It's been years since I heard it."_

" _Yes, I speak it. You are Gaunt?"_

" _Morphin Gaunt. You look like that Muggle, the one that my sister took to. He's older now."_

" _Did your sister speak it?"_

" _She was a Gaunt wasn't she? A'course she speaks it."_

" _She's dead."_

" _How do you know? She robbed us 'afore she left…do you have it?"_

" _I have nothing of her. What is it?"_

" _The locket. Took it didn't she? Slytherin's locket. I kept the ring safe though."_ The man made a shushing sound and looked around wildly. _"Father will kill us all if he finds out."_

Tom started backing away. _"We will be going now."_ He held his wand steady on the deranged man. The man's eyes flicked to Hermione. _"Do you speak it?"_

Tom shook his head. _"She doesn't speak it."_

" _But she's pure?"_

Tom shook his head. _"As pure as anyone can be."_

Gaunt smiled, revealing the shattered remains of his teeth. _"Good. Can't lie in parseltongue. You must be Merope's boy…but you look like that muggle. The one…the one she ran off with. He must have hurt her. She wouldn't have left left if he didn't."_ Gaunt's eyes looked less and less sane, and considering the state he was in when they arrived, that was saying something.

He was speaking too quickly to be understood.

Tom clutched Hermione's hand.

He felt the pulling sensation of slide-along as Morphin took it into his head to throw the blood stained knife at the place where they had been.

Tom panted as they stumbled and landed outside the manor's wards. He checked Hermione carefully, but she seemed fine.

That was when he noticed the knife had lodged itself between his ribs.

"Tom? Tom!"


	31. Chapter 31

_**AN: I am sorry about the cliffhanger in the last chapter! I know it was a long week, but hopefully this one will make up for it. I will update again sometime this week; not exactly certain which day, but I have plans on next Sunday, so I will try not to leave everything to the last minute. Thank you to everyone who has continued to read along with me. I'm still projecting around 100,000 words for this story (ok…maybe 120,000 words).**_

Tom groaned as he felt himself wake. His mouth was parched and had an awful taste it it…someone had been force-feeding him dragon spit in his sleep, he was certain of it. The sheets wrapped around him were thick and white…too thick to belong to the hospital or orphanage, not soft enough to be sheets at Malfoy Manner. He turned his head and the noise alerted Hermione, who closed her book without even marking the place and rushed to his bedside.

She pushed the sweaty locks of dark hair away from his face tenderly. "Hey there." Her voice was little more than a whisper and her eyes were ringed with dark circles.

"What happened to you?"

She laughed, and it had that brittle, almost mad sound behind it. It wasn't a sound that she should make. He didn't like hearing her sound so broken. It wasn't right. Not for his Hermione.

"What happened to _me_? Tom, I am fine. You were the one who nearly…frightened me to death." He couldn't imagine how he might have managed that; he felt rather weak to have been causing mischief. Even moving his head was an effort.

She was running complicated diagnostics with her wand, checking on everything from his heart rate to his digestion. "You are doing better though." She smiled and some of her weariness seemed to fall away.

He ran a thumb of her lips as he caressed her face. "I must have been in bad shape then, because I feel like I was trampled by a hippogryph." He tried to chuckled then noticed it hurt more when he did that, so he stopped.

That was when he noticed that his torso could have passed for an Egyptian Mummy's. He frowned. He was clean, obviously, and he was presumably somewhere being treated. Why bandage him the muggle way? Surely Hermione wouldn't have let muggles have him.

"Your uncle's knife had the venom of a dozen different snakes saturating the blade. Another family heirloom it seems, Goblin-made, so it absorbed anything that made it more dangerous and deadly…"

Perenelle appeared and Tom felt his tension easing. That was good, because he really was exhausted. "I finally managed a potion to neutralize the blend. Poor Nicholas had to visit three continents to collect samples for me, but we managed to keep you alive and unconscious while it was brewed. You've been through half a dozen bezoars and a full vial of Phoenix tears, courtesy of Albus and his pet."

Hermione was trembling, so Tom tried to pull her closer. She smiled and sat on the bed, on his 'good side'.

Dumbledore chose that moment to enter the room.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione was holding back tears, but only just.

Tom had very nearly died. Really died. Dealing with his relative required someone who was rather dark and dangerous. Her version of Tom wasn't prepared to do whatever it took to survive, and worse, he watched for her before himself…things that were all well and good, except that they'd nearly gotten him _killed_.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing her from her self-recrimination.

"I have news I'm afraid. The Riddles are dead. When the MLE agents returned to arrest Morphin, he was already gone. Last night he slipped back into the Riddle residence and killed all of them."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. Were some things simply fated to be? Was there an entity somewhere that measured the fates of humans and decided when time ran out? She would think it fanciful, except that she was here, at this moment.

Tom was still. "One visit and all of them are dead?"

He was pale, but that might have been the wound. Albus caught Hermione's angry look and immediately said, "Tom, it most certainly wasn't you fault for arranging to see your nearest kin. You managed the whole thing with a certain grace and dignity despite the adults around you generally making asses of themselves. That is to be commended. Miss Granger showed me some of her memories and I took them to the Wizingmount…in a closed session of course. Everyone agrees that the two of you erred only in waiting to use your wands as long as you did, and perhaps in your choice to visit alone…but that is hardly a crime…"

Hermione wanted to spit fire. Idiots. "It most certainly is not a crime to suss out family before involving the Ministry, especially when Tom was so wary of them. It would have been a travesty for him to end up living with magic-hating muggles like the Riddles." Her words were as cold as ice. She hadn't forgotten that the elder version of Dumbledore had left Harry in a special kind of hell with the Dursleys.

"Indeed." Albus looked taken aback by Hermione's emotional outburst. "And it seems like nothing short of death would have stopped Morphin Gaunt from killing the Riddle family eventually. From what we could understand, he'd planned their deaths for some time. He was quite convinced that it was a matter of family honor." Albus shook his head. "Your father had no time to reconcile himself to the fact that he had a son at all…from what I can gather, he was originally convinced that Merope lied about the pregnancy for some reason, at least according to his personal diary." Albus handed the book to Tom. "I don't actually recommend reading this piece of doggerel. It's the ranting of a whiskey soaked mind that never snapped back once it saw the existence of magic was real. But by rights you should have it." His eyes twinkled. "Also, it will lend credence to your tale should you ever discover within yourself a burning desire to become the next Squire Riddle."

Tom pushed the diary away with an awful look in his eyes. She shouldn't have let him do this so soon. She knew the kind of wounds parents could cause…

"I don't want anything from him." His confident voice, suddenly so small and emotionless made her want to resurrect his entire family and kill them herself this time.

Albus nodded, but seemed disturbed. Perenelle cleared her throat. "There will be time enough to discuss these things Albus, after he recovers. Even with all my skill that will be a few days. Go join Nicholas. He just brought in a case of burgundy that he won in a bet from Louis IV."

Albus' lips twitched lightly, but his eyes didn't twinkle as he left.

Perenelle ran many of the diagnostics that Hermione had ran only moments before. She fussed for a few moments and then forced a bowl of broth on Tom and a sandwich on Hermione. Then she commanded both of them to rest and swept out of the room.

Hermione was holding Tom close as his sleeping potion took effect. His voice was still small when he stirred, seconds from sleep and muttered, "Hermione?"

She kissed his forehead. "Yes Tom?"

"What names do you like? I don't think I like Tom anymore…"

"No matter what you are called, you are precious to me. But why would you want to change your name?"

"I don't want to share anything with him."

"Keep the good and forget the bad. You are not your ancestors, no matter how good or bad they might be. You are Tom…my Tom, and I love you."

He smiled slightly as he fell asleep in her arms. She stroked his hair and frowned into the darkness, tears running down her face. She'd almost lost him. Her only job was to keep him safe and she'd walked blindly into a situation where he'd nearly died. She should have known better. The darkness around him hungered for him, wanted to make him into a tool. Wanted to take him away from her. She glared at the darkness until the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon; she dozed off at last.

 **HGHG**

A spill of jet-black hair on the floor echoed the spill of dark red blood. Hair and blood had been removed from the same wretch. Gellert could feel a migraine coming on.

"I thought my instructions were clear?"

Jean Marie Basset looked at him with his large, liquid eyes, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the bruising.

"The boy nearly died! Dumbledore himself came out of the woodwork to smooth things over with the Ministry, and his only living relative is now in Azkaban. And where were you? You were in your beautiful penthouse, entertaining the crème de la crème of pureblood society."

Jean Marie coughed blood and spat inelegantly in the floor. "My Lord, I was simply trying to get information! The children did not return to the orphanage. I was making inquiries, trying to find out where they were. Most believe they are still on Malfoy lands. They have the resources to pay for private healers…"

Gellert grabbed a fistful of the ruined hair on Jean Marie's head and whispered quietly, "No healers have gone to the Malfoy estate. The young heir seems to be quite upset that Albus will not tell him where the children are. He threatened to hex him, if the witnesses in the Ministry are to be believed. My information is better than yours Jean Marie, and I was out of the country until last night."

The Frenchman cowered in his chair while Gellert debated simply killing the fool. Once people saw this side of him, they never truly liked him again. All that was left was fear and eventual betrayal followed by swift death. It would be so much simpler to simply kill him now, but he would have to explain the death to one or two allies who might make waves. Jean Marie's sister was married to two of the six ruling families of Sweden (it was a complicated situation). Killing him would be satisfying, but it would make more problems than it would solve at the moment, unfortunately.

Gellert picked up his wand. "Heed me Jean. If you want to keep that beautiful head on your shoulders, you will bring them to me before the new term begins. I don't want to risk stealing them out from under the nose of that old fool, Dumbledore."

Grindlewald stopped speaking. He stroked the man's unblemished cheek lightly. Then he started casting: after all…Jean Marie was already afraid of him. The best course of action was to make him so terrified that he would never think of betraying his lord.

 **TRTRTR**

Tom hated the bed. It was comfortable and smelled of lavender, and worst of all he kept drifting off to sleep several times a day like an infant.

Perenelle poured potions down his throat and pestered him to eat bowls and bowls of broth, and when he wouldn't, she poured nutrient solutions down his throat as well. Hermione betrayed him and sided with Perenelle, and every time he tried to complain about it, she looked at him with eyes that would fill to the brim with unshed tears. The entire thing was revolting.

He hated it. Hated being weak, even around those he trusted most. He even hated how patient Hermione was being with his foul mood…

"Could you read somewhere else?"

She looked up at him, a bit shocked. He'd never asked her to do that before. But she hadn't been out of the house in days. She'd sat right beside him; she was there each time he woke. She was looking pale.

"Go outside and read. Get some sun; you look like a ghost." She looked slightly upset. He felt a little bad about tossing her out of the room, especially since all he really wanted to do was hold her tight…but since moving hurt and the wound was itching as he healed, the best thing he could do for her was to get her away from him for a few hours.

Still, he didn't like the hurt look on her face and he knew, deep down that he was being a childish ass.

He caught her hand with his 'good' arm, wincing slightly. Every bloody time he moved, he jostled the wound. Pain potions weren't helping either…something about the mixture of poisons that there running through his viens. "Don't go near the lake. And have dinner with Perenelle and Nicholas. You don't have to eat every meal in here with me. I'm not made out of glass and Merlin knows I'm not interesting to be around right now." He couldn't even keep his eyes focused long enough to read…

She stomped her foot. "You don't get to tell me where I should eat Tom Riddle. What if I would rather be in here with you? Even if you aren't able to speak with me. Even if you are being a royal prat? Have you considered that?"

She didn't give him time to reply…she just stormed out of the room with her head held high. And without her book.

She stomped back in a moment later, gave him a haughty glance, daring him to say anything, and swept back out.

"Only Hermione Granger…"

Dumbledore walked into the room. "Did the two of you quarrel?"

Tom shrugged, and then stopped mid-motion. Merlin, this was annoying. Dumbledore twinkled at him. "I must say Tom, with your attitude right now, I wonder if you will be end up being a healer."

Tom frowned. "Why is that?"

"You don't seem to enjoy being in that bed…it is a trait that many healers share."

Tom rolled his eyes, wishing Hermione was back. Dumbledore was looking at him strangely. "You should start working on your occlumency Tom. Sometimes your thoughts seem to leave your mind with such force that they nearly knock over the people around you. If you want her to come back, why ever did you send her away?"

"It's dark in this room. One of us should get sunlight, at least." Tom found this conversation at least as uncomfortable as his recuperation.

Dumbledore nodded. "Would you like to go outside? I am certain it could be accomplished with some careful levitation."

Tom shrugged. "It would probably just wear me out. She was looking so sad and pale though. But now I'm worried…"

"The grounds are well-warded."

"There are merpeople in the water, and I thought I saw signs of Centaurs in the woods."

"Hermione is quite capable of taking care of herself."

Tom sighed. "Would you check on her…please?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Tom hated that worst of all.

 **HGHGHG**

Albus had only been out of the room moments when Hermione came running back in, paper trailing behind her and a wild look in her eyes.

"Did Dumbledore find you that quickly?"

She looked momentarily confused, then shook her head. "Haven't seen him. Tom…what do you know about the molecular process of turning iron to gold from your Muggle education?"

Tom almost shrugged again, but managed to stop himself. Damn wound. "Nothing at all. They chortled a bit about alchemists trying and then moved on to other things. Isn't that the entire point of elements? You can't make them?"

"Just because we can't make them, it doesn't stand to reason that they aren't made." He grinned to himself as she slipped into lecture mode. She wasn't holding a grudge about his rude behavior earlier, not if she was willing to lecture him on whatever this was. It could be flobberworms for all he cared at the moment.

"Gold is the result of stars dying." At his raised brows she grinned. "Stars are made up of elements, beginning with helium and ending with iron and nickel. It's a process called nuclear fusion. Muggle scientists are working on replicating it here on Earth."

"That sounds…unlikely. They're just muggles after all."

She glared at him, but there was no real heat to it. "Don't fear them, but don't underestimate them either." She took a deep breath. "Back to the inside of a star…once the star's helium has been used up and nothing is left but the heavier elements, it starts to implode, and neutrons are formed out of protons and electrons. I think knowing this is important. The iron and nickel elements pick up the electrons in varying amounts and that's where the heavy elements like silver and gold are formed."

"In nature. But we can't create our own personal supernova."

"But what if that is what the stone is?"

"What?"

She started laying out bits of notes and books around his legs, careful not to disturb his hurt side. "Look: you know those references that have been driving me mad? What if they refer to different stars? What if some of these are examples of the different supernova that seeded the gold on Earth? Or just variables that can affect the stone." She turned her head and bit her lip, considering. "Once you take those calculations out of the arithmancy formula and rework the variables…"

Tom whistled as the numbers started making sense. "You've done it. I know there is a lot of work after this, and then there's still the matter of how you would use this to make the Elixir of Life…but this is the breakthrough we've been looking for all this time. Congratulations."

She beamed at him and placed a soft kiss on his face.

 **TRTRTR**

Perenelle listened at the door with a frown on her face. She had no idea they were so close to this breakthrough. If they'd taken the route she and others had, the children would have had years more to study before the stone was even a gleam in their eyes.

But Hermione and Tom hadn't taken the well beaten path. Instead they had used Muggle science. Perenelle determined that she would find a book on nuclear theory as soon as Tom was better, it sounded like fascinating stuff…in the meantime, they were still at least a year away from discovering the way to make the stone and several years from brewing the elixir.

Hopefully, they would understand the full ramifications of the step they were taking before they made their final decision.


	32. Chapter 32

_**AN: Sorry about the late hour! I meant to have this done earlier, but it wouldn't behave. (Naughty story!) Everyone have a beautiful week and I'll see you next Sunday!**_

His lord was displeased; very displeased if the state of his hair was any indication.

Thus, Jean Marie wasted no time enacting his master plan (he did spend a few hours with a talented Veela stylist to remedy his abused locks, but that could hardly be called a waste…he couldn't go out looking like he'd chopped off his luscious locks with a wand after all, it would have tipped off anyone who knew anything about him that something was desperately wrong!)

Thankfully the very efforts that Grindlewald had formally scoffed at were already bearing fruit. A mutual acquaintance had made the introduction between himself and the Malfoy family. And where one invitation was tendered, Jean was certain that others would follow.

As a matter of course, Jean availed himself of an escort for the evening; a buxom beauty whose charms were quite assuredly for sale to the highest bidder, as long as that bidder ran in very select circles.

With the witch in his arm looking good enough to eat, and he himself appearing rather dashing (despite the absence of his beautiful mane of hair) he felt quite up to whatever the night might hold. He knew himself to be witty, charming, and almost inhumanly beautiful. Men of his kind (as long as they had good breeding and large estates) were always welcome in society.

Also, as a precaution, he fully intended to seduce at least one member of the Malfoy family if the opportunity presented itself (two if possible, it was always wise to have a spare). If the Malfoy clan's tastes ran to the fair sex, the buxom witch beside him had her orders. She was to do whatever it took to end the night in bed with one of the blond aristocrats.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas escorted his wife of several weeks to the appointed chair with her hand resting in the crook of his arm. He made a show of easing her into the seat, hissed for her to stay still, and walked off to find his mother.

He bride looked a bit mulish (being rather fond of dancing), but she had agreed to take extreme measures with her health for the next three months.

The newlyweds devoutly hoped that their carefully calculated 'wedding night' and the addition of the most powerful fertility potions galleons could buy would yield desirable results in roughly nine months. Merlin knew neither of them ever wanted to repeat _that_ process again. For her part, the blushing bride was so disgusted with her groom's anatomy that she had required a trance potion (administer by herself) that allowed her to be mentally absent. Abraxas was less fortunate as one of them had to be aware. His revulsion toward her drooling, inert body was such that he'd needed a double dose of lust potion and a glass of Ogden's finest to do his duty.

Abraxas shook off his lingering memories of that night with a small shudder, and found his mother's wheat colored hair in the colorful throng of socialites.

He came up behind her and dropped a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. "Care to dance Mother? Helga is indisposed, but I promised you a set."

Helena inclined her head as though they'd actually discussed dancing beforehand. His mother was nothing if not in tune to her surroundings.

A Russian inspired waltz stuck up as they walked onto the floor. His smile was as neutral-looking as his mother's…and just as practiced.

"I had word from Albus Dumbledore. Tom is awake and is healing."

A real smiled shined from Helena's eyes. "That is good news. I'm actually very fond of the boy."

"The crooked-nosed bastard of a Professor still won't tell me where Tom and Hermione were taken, nor will he bring them here to heal."

Helena blinked in astonishment. "He must have his reasons. Merlin knows we have the resources to see that they are seen to as well as anyone in the Wizarding World."

"I'm certain the old man keeps secrets for the sake of keeping secrets when he's of a mind to do so. The war is simply a convenient excuse for him to do what's in his nature."

She acknowledged his irritation with a graceful inclination of her head.

"Hermione wrote to me, but she didn't mention where they were, only that they were safe. She apologized for their foolishness in going half-way across England in order for Tom to get stabbed." Helena appeared to be half-amused and half-irritated.

"She wrote to me as well, and from what she didn't say, I gather that they were staying at the home of a certain alchemist."

"That's a rather brilliant connection for an orphan."

Abraxas nodded. "It is. I assumed at first that it was a remnant of her family. Then one evening tom made mention that Hermione had simply written the man requesting advice on amateur alchemy and Falmel was so impressed they began corresponding."

They executed a flawless turn; Malfoys didn't stumble on a dance floor.

"Extraordinary that he could see the potential in a letter from a twelve year old witch." She seemed to consider her words carefully. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you finally managed to find some friends rather than just making allies? Don't misunderstand my son…allies are important…but true friendship…it's rare. "

Abraxas fought down a blush. "Friends are an indulgence I didn't think I would have the opportunity to pursue."

Helena, sensing that he wouldn't be able to keep up his façade if she pushed him further on the subject of his friends, changed the subject. "Have you noted our guests from the continent?"

Abraxas fought the urge to sigh as he noted the Frenchman and his rather fetching companion holding court near his wife, who seemed to be rather taken with both of them.

"A new acquaintance? From the country next to our own that just happens to be in the middle of a pissing contest with the Bulgarian bastard?"

"Language my son!"

"Would you prefer me to curse in French, I assure you, my vocabulary is quite extensive."

She rolled her eyes. "So pleased to know that your tutor didn't neglect that part of your education."

"Lamentably, I'm afraid he was quite lacking. The groundskeeper at Hogwarts, and Professor Kettlebaulm were both past masters in the art of swearing though."

His wife chose that moment to let out one of her piercing, screechy laughs. Half the hall winced. The other half were better actors or deaf.

Abraxas noted that the new Frenchman and his escort for the evening were better actors.

He finished the waltz with a flourish. "Yes…I should get to know these strangers. It is, after all, only polite."

Those that thought of Abraxas Malfoy as a foppish aristocratic child would have been shocked to hear the purring threat of violence behind that innocuous phrase.

Helena Malfoy only nodded amicably. That note in her son's voice did not surprise her in the least. He was her son after all.

 **GGGGGGGG**

Gellert did not remain long in Britain after he put the fear of Grindlewald into Basset. He had an empire to run, a rebellion to squash, and hallows to discover.

He couldn't do everything little chore himself. Merlin protect Jean Marie if he didn't produce results, and quickly. Gellert really wasn't a patient man.

He swirled a fine single malt in his glass in front of a fire in his private office. He sighed at the stack of paperwork waiting him on his desk.

Finding the hallows would allow him to take the bits of Europe that were still resisting his rule. Defiance was not an option and the stragglers would learn that eventually. It would most likely be a painful lesion.

Only France and England were any real threat at this point. The Dutch were resisting quietly and the Swiss insisted that they were neutral (he allowed them that for the moment since the main bank of Gringots was located deep in the Alps…their defiance wouldn't stand once they were more isolated, but for now, he pretended that he had no ambition to control the largest deposit of wizarding gold in the world).

Fools.

Once he united the hallows they wouldn't stand before him.

He glanced back at the paperwork and groaned around the hundred year old brandy.

Of course once he dominated the world, he'd have to bloody well run it…something that would no doubt give him headaches.

What he needed was a protégée. Some bright lad with plenty of loyalty and ambition…but not too much.

E wondered if young Tom wasn't exactly who he was looking for…

As for the girl, Gellert knew exactly what he was going to do with her. She was special. Much too special to be allowed to roam about, no matter how talented she might be. A new breed of seer, and one of the best students Hogwarts had ever seen if his source inside the school could be trusted. She might be what he'd been searching for since Ariana Dumbledore was killed. A bloodline worthy of mixing with his own.

 **TRTRTRTR**

Tom finished another letter to Abraxas with a slight flourish. The blond prat was (perhaps understandably) irritated with him for nearly dying while under his watch, though 'Brax had gamely admitted that under similar circumstances he would have gone if he'd been in Tom's place.

However miffed he might be, Abraxas was also full of news.

The Flamels were very decent people and excellent hosts. If they had a flaw, it was that they tended to ignore most of what was going on in the world around them. They'd seen so much in their 700 years that they simply didn't worry too much about any of the troubles that other people endured.

If anything, Abraxas was the direct opposite.

And something in his last chatty letter had stired a memory in Tom's head.

"Hermione?"

She looked up from her stack of books and gave him a small smile. "Yes?"

"Do you remember a French accent during our little skirmish with Grindelwald's men?"

She scrunched her forehead up and he found it difficult to keep his focus.

"Judging strictly from the spell casting and occasional grunts of pain it was hard to tell…but yes, I'd say that at least one of them was French. Why?"

"Abraxas mentioned that some French wizard was busy ingratiating himself with their family. He suspects the man might be a spy for Grindlewald. He's afraid they are looking for his grandmother; trying to trace her through the family."

"Well, the Malfoy wards would keep them from truly harming family members on the grounds."

"What if they aren't searching for her?"

"You think Gellert got tired of searching a bloody continent for an invisible cloak?" Her smirk was so much like Abraxas' that Tom wondered if they were distantly related.

Tom smirked. "You didn't tell me it was invisible all the time."

"It's not, but I couldn't resist the joke." She was quiet for a moment. "I should go to the next ball…see this alleged spy for myself."

"I'm not quite ready for dancing."

"I'll be fine on my own."

"Over someone else's dead body." He glared at her. Sill girl! Didn't she know what she meant to him? If anything happened to her…no. He wouldn't allow it. "Why can't it wait? I'll be fighting fit in a few weeks."

"Because. If the spy finds who or what he's looking for during that time, he'll be gone. Or if Abraxas shows his suspicions he might be replaced with someone more subtle that we won't see coming."

He hated when she made good points. "If you go, I'm coming with you."

"Tom…"

He held up a hand. "Don't be such a Gryffindor. I said I was going, if I have to hex anyone I'll do it from a comfortable chair in the corner."

She crossed her arms under her breasts, a fact that didn't escape Tom's notice. "You'll be swarmed with people who want to know about your injury. It made the paper."

"Oh ye of little faith. You are assuming that I would be going as myself."


	33. Chapter 33

_**AN: Note:**_ _ **Dimitrana Ivanova was Bulgarian female suffragist. In this chapter, I borrowed her name because I needed something Bulgarian and obviously Helena wasn't originally a Malfoy. She's an interesting character, and I liked the idea of giving Abraxas' grandmother the name of a real warrior.**_

 _ **Also, I took a few words directly from Half Blood Prince in this chapter. If you recognize it, it belongs to JKR!**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy! I will update again next Sunday. Hope all of you have a lovely week.**_

Tom adjusted the thrice-blasted shawl over his arms.

When he said he'd go in disguise, this was _not_ what he'd had in mind.

Hermione had insisted. Abraxas had chortled, and Helena and Perenelle had backed them up. He had (oh-so-reluctantly) allowed it. Even a powerful wizard knew when it was prudent to make concessions.

That didn't mean he was happy about this nonsense.

Abraxas caught his eye from the dance floor. The glee practically oozed out of him. If that blond prat didn't tone down his kneezle-got-into-the-cream grin, he was going to blow the whole thing and Tom would be wearing a dress for nothing.

He tried to adjust the filmy, flounced pink robes around his legs. The polyjuice had been as disgusting as the book said it was. But it was an effective (and very complete) disguise. He didn't want to think too closely about that though.

No one would expect Helena Malfoy's mother to secretly be Tom Riddle.

Helga, Malfoy's blushing bride, was sitting beside 'grandmere' talking faster than a threstral could fly.

"Do you think the baby will look like Abraxas?"

The child in question was probably about the size of a peanut. An experienced mediwitch had confirmed the girl's two-week pregnancy just that day.

Obviously, no one had informed Helga that the old woman in the ball room was anything but an elderly relative.

She was waiting patiently for an answer though, so Tom managed to growl out 'Malfoys breed true." For her edification.

If he hoped the growling answer would silence her, he was doomed to know disappointment. "Well at least he will be handsome." She scrunched her nose and the expression made her look like a pug. She must have some Parkinson somewhere in her family tree. Hopefully the child would be spared the indignity of their signature nose.

She looked out at the dance floor, obviously mooning about missing a set with the dark haired French wizard that she'd been flirting shamelessly with. She unwrapped a chocolate and shoved into her mouth.

Her hand was held up to cover her gaping maw as she spoke with a mouth full of chocolate, but it was too little too late. "What was Abraxas like as a child?"

He didn't even try to keep the disgust off of his face. "Shorter."

The woman let loose with another of those shrill laughs that cut through the ballroom.

"Stop drawing attention to yourself girl. Are you part harpy?"

Helga huffed off to another padded seat across the hall where the French wizard presented his arm with a gallantry that would look better on her groom.

Tom used a silencing spell on the area around him and pretended to be deaf. He didn't have the proper mindset to deal with fools at the moment.

Part of his short-tempered reaction was undoubtedly due to a blond-haired prat that just happened to be dancing with Hermione again.

As the dance ended, the French bastard swaggered over to Hermione to bow over her hand and engage in a totally gratuitous use of dimples and charm.

A vein in Tom's head began to pound as Abraxas pulled Hermione closer to his side and away from the French menace.

He fingered his wand inside his robes. Surely he could get away with a few hexes? A nice confusion charm when the man was close to a window, one little push…"

Unfortunately, Hermione excused herself to go to the loo and the Frenchman (Helena Malfoy informed him that the man's name was Jean Marie Basset) went back to flirting with the new Malfoy bride in a way that made Helena glare icicles at him.

Another shrieking laugh caught his attention a few moments later. Jean Marie was feeding the stupid woman chocolate covered strawberries while his escort for the evening was rubbing the 'poor pregnant' woman's feet. Tom was fairly certain that Helga was looking down the other woman's corset, and even he (a fourteen year old boy) could tell that neither witch minded.

He shook his head as Helena's face took on that perfect, icy calm.

Helga might think of herself as a mover and a shaker, but she was going to be very disappointed when she matched wits with her mother-in-law. He wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of that cool calculated stare.

As the night wore on, he kept an eye on the Frenchman. He flirted with Helga but managed to stay just within the bounds of propriety. Tom was fascinated by the whole idea, since he was quite certain that in the matter of bed partners, Helga much preferred someone with the same curves that she had. The boys in the dorms discussed such things of course. It seemed silly to Tom; if a witch wanted another woman, she wouldn't be interested in a wizard. It seemed fairly cut and dry to him.

Hermione wandered over, finally. "How are you? You look tired."

He shrugged. "I am. I suppose I overreacted in coming here. Malfoy hired a dozen goblin guards and they are patrolling the grounds. He had hit wizards undercover with the guests as well."

She held his hand. It was strange. Even under the polyjuice, she still seemed to see him.

Another shrieking laugh turned their attention to Helga.

"I thought she liked witches."

Hermione shrugged. "I think she prefers them in bed, but she enjoys attention, and the attention of someone witty and beautiful is her favorite kind."

Tom frowned.

"It's not completely black and white for some people Tom. She might want him sexually even if she normally prefers females. Sometimes a certain person can take you out of your self-proclaimed box. Though if male beauty was the trigger for her, she would have fallen for Abraxas. Jean Marie is more androgynous though, with that willowy build and his face that's more pretty than handsome."

Tom frowned fiercely. She'd admitted to finding two other men beautiful, and one of them was probably working for Grindelwald.

Hermione was still staring at the threesome. "I hate these stupid customs. The back alley power plays that involve human lives. Abraxas deserved to have someone who would love him, not his status in society or his blasted Gringotts vault."

Tom took both of Hermione's hands in his own. It would look like Malfoy's grandmother was comforting the young orphan.

"He does have people who love him." His eyes flicked to Helga and he rolled his eyes. "It just isn't his wife. In a way I can't blame her, it isn't as if she's had time to bond with him."

"Except she didn't have a threat of death hanging over her head. She just needed a husband so she could hide her own preferences."

He could tell the witch wasn't going to relent. He smirked and leaned forward. "If I have to pull you into my lap and kiss you senseless to get that expression off of your face I will."

She laughed like she thought he was joking.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Jean Marie chose to appear.

Helga was pulling him by the hand, overeager to introduce them for reasons Tom couldn't fathom.

"Jean Marie Bassett, I would like to introduce you to my husband's grandmother, Dimitrana Ivanova."

The Frenchman bowed over Tom's hand and kissed it…letting his lips remain slightly open so they drug along the skin. Tom wondered if it would be out of character to hex the little bastard, or at least wipe his hand along his dress.

"A pleasure to meet such a famous freedom fighter."

This was the part that Abraxas insisted on. Tom was fairly certain his grandmother would skin them both alive for this charade. The rumors were that she was formidable.

"I'm afraid you must have me confused with another witch. I've been absent from society because I've been ill since my home was destroyed in Bulgaria."

Tom hacked delicately, covering his mouth with a lace handkerchief. A small spell had altered his voice to be something in the female range. Since none of the guests had ever met Helena's mother, the voice being wrong didn't matter.

Jean Marie seemed to be studying him intently. (Him, her? Polyjuice made personal pronouns harder than they needed to be, in Tom's opinion. This was the very last time he disguised himself as a woman.)

"I apologize Madam. I thought that I had heard rumors of your exploits against Grindlewald."

Tom shrugged and went with the script that Helena Malfoy had suggested. "I certainly was a vocal detractor; still am in fact, but I have never led forces against him. I believe that during my illness that some other angry woman transfigured herself enough to pass as me. Couldn't be polyjuice, I've always guarded bits of myself rather well."

There was confusion in the Frenchman's eyes that had nothing to do with the content of the conversation. He wanted desperately to use legimency on the man, but he didn't want to give the game away. Jean Marie was looking at the woman in front of him, trying to discern something. He must have faced Madam Ivanova at some point…but who was to say which of them was the real Madam Ivanova? Certainly, the woman in Bulgaria was stirring up the old families and the various factions well enough, but this one was sitting at the heart of Malfoy Manner, under the careful eye of Helena Malfoy. Certainly a daughter would not be fooled by polyjuice for any length of time.

Feeling nearly chipper at the uncertainty he was causing, Tom began typical pure-blooded chit chat, until Helena made her way over. She tutted about her 'mother' being up so long after such a long illness. The actual concern in her voice (due to Tom's injury) seemed to fully convince Jean Marie. Tom allowed himself to be escorted out of the ball room by a house elf, though he didn't like leaving Hermione alone.

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione could tell that Abraxas' protective behavior bothered Helga only as much as it would bother any narcissistic person who felt they were not getting the attention they thought they deserved; which of course meant that it bothered her quite a bit.

Abraxas was making a game out of making up outrageous excuses every time anyone asked her to dance.

"So Sorry. Miss Granger is currently healing from a bad hippogriff accident, dancing with anyone who can't do the proper wandless charms is excruciating."

"Miss Granger is currently possessed by the spirit of Cerci and will eviscerate any man of impure thoughts who happens to touch her."

"Miss Granger suffers from a deadly spell in which only the best looking wizard in the room can dance with her. Naturally I volunteered since her friend Tom is absent."

Hermione couldn't keep the grin off her face as man after man backed away slowly from the blonde's odd statements.

"You are incorrigible."

"Ha. If you'd given me any encouragement at all…"

She laughed uncomfortably. He wrapped an arm around her as the danced. "I know Tom is yours and you are his."

She reached up and touched his cheek. "You know this isn't how it is supposed to be. You aren't supposed to find a wife at seventeen Abraxas. You should be racing brooms and chasing desirable witches to create mild scandals where people roll their eyes at your antics because you are young, handsome, and rich."

"Sounds like a perfect world."

She rolled her eyes, thinking of Draco Malfoy's reputation after the war. The press had called him the Slytherin Sex God after he was caught with his trousers down in the Hollyhead Harpy dressing room with half the team.

Ginny had laughed about that incident until she died over a hundred years later. Apparently several of her teammates had cornered the boy later to have another go.

"Well, in that perfect world, you'd eventually marry a beautiful witch that adored you; one who wouldn't let you get away with anything."

"That sounds less perfect."

"Just because you don't know that's what you need." She smiled sadly. "I hope you and Helga can come to some sort of arrangement."

His face fell. "That's never going to happen. Just put it out of your mind."

She nodded. He was young. Perhaps his mind would change in time. Little Lucius would be a real charmer from birth…Merlin knew he couldn't have been born with that sneer and a prejudice against Mudbloods.

Abraxas did finally leave her alone by the punch bowl for a few moments. She cast a hasty disillusionment charm and started toward the door. She missed Tom.

But something stopped her as she passed the chair where Helga Malfoy _nee_ Olivander was getting a foot rub. It wasn't the nearly orgasmic look on the other woman's face as she ogled the witch who was obviously there to do whatever Jean Marie Bassett required of her. What stopped her was the conversation between the two witches.

Helga's mind was a shallow pool with few surprises, but there was something about the girl that made Hermione uncomfortable. At first, she'd entertained the idea that it was the girl's sexuality that was causing an unconscious reaction, though why it would in Helga when it had never bothered her before…

Then there was the idea that she might, perhaps be slightly jealous. Helga was, after all, a unique part of Abraxas' life, and Hermione found that she was quite attached to the young man. She could admit, occasionally, that she felt the draw of his masculine beauty and his strong, confident personality. Perhaps there was some part of her that would have given in to his obvious interest had things been different. But was that enough to make her resent the bride that he didn't even want?

But something the beautiful witch at Helga's feet said bothered Hermione. "Pampadoria Avery had dragonpox all last week poor dear." Helga perked up in a way that made Hermione uncomfortable all over again.

"Really. That means she'll be at her most infectious this week."

The witch nodded, obviously making small talk. "It's really quite terrible, but of course, it's better if children get the pox when they are little."

Helga let her head loll to the side as she enjoyed her foot rub. "Yes of course…"

Hermione felt her heart constrict as she remembered Horace Slughorn's words about Abraxas from potions in her sixth year _. "Dragonpox, at his age."_

She'd always assumed that it was in old age. But dragonpox was deadly in adults.

Any adult.

She needed to start working on the vaccine immediately.

 **HGHGHG**

Jean Marie was not tasked with bringing Grindelwald Madam Ivanova. There were forces in place whose sole job was to capture the resistance fighter.

His job was to infiltrate the Malfoy family and bring Grindelwald both of the children.

He wasn't a fool. To deviate from his Lord's plans was…unwise. He shivered and only barely kept himself from soiling his new trousers. More than anything in the world, he wanted to never be on the wrong end of Grindlewald's wand again.

However, since the boy was absent, he made no move on the girl. He simply introduced himself. Abraxas' reaction was much like a dog growling over a bone. Jean found it quite amusing that the young Malfoy would allow the man to feed his pregnant wife strawberries in public and whisper all kinds of naughty things into the woman's ear; yet he pulled the young orphan witch to his side at a simple comment. Possessive and over-protective.

Jean wondered how long they'd been carrying on. Helena Malfoy wasn't dim; if her son had brought his mistress into their ancestral manse then she would know about it.

On one hand that made Helga less valuable, because the family was treating her like a breeding cow. She wouldn't be privy to any intimate information, and would probably have limited access to anything of real importance.

On the other hand…the girl was stupid and selfish, and quite ready to take offence over anything and everything.

It wouldn't take more than a couple of good nudges and she would be completely in his thrall; and better, as long as she was pregnant with the next heir, even the Malfoys wouldn't touch her.

Jean would still tell his master about the freedom fighter, but in the meantime, he'd begin his total seduction of Helga, as little as he was looking forward to that particular chore. He shuddered delicately and looked at the gorgeous, passionate vixen who was once again rubbing Helga's feet while licking her plump lips. At least he could mix business with some pleasure.

As he approached, he gave the two witches his most charming, seductive smile. "Did the two of you miss me?"

Elladora stuck her tongue out as the placement of her arms on Helga's feet put her breasts in danger of popping out of the low neckline of her dress.

He and Helga both enjoyed the view.

He leaned over and whispered in Helga's ear as Elladora sat, using her sinful fingers on her sensitive feet.

"Be with us tonight."

Helga blushed beautifully. It made her much more attractive.

He rumbled next to her ear. "I won't touch you unless you give me permission, but be with us and let me share her with you…I promise, it will be a night you'll never forget."

He ran his hand along her visible collar bone.

"Pregnancy makes a woman's body so much more sensitive."

Helga seemed to be having trouble catching her breath. It really was ridiculously easy. "The fidelity charms…."

"I will redirect them." And he would.

Helga looked into his eyes and down at the wanton witch at her feet.

"Where shall we meet?"


	34. Chapter 34

_**AN: Happy Sunday my darlings. Do you realize we've been doing this for over six months? Admittedly, I did take a bit of a break or it would be done by now…ah, well…such is life! We can't spend every moment writing and reading! I hope all of you are enjoying reading as much as I enjoy writing it.**_

Jean-Marie subconsciously held his breath as his lord appeared in the grand (some would say gaudy) two way mirror the Frenchman had brought from his homeland.

Gellert Grindlewald was obviously a wizard in his prime: at sixty-nine he was as fit as many twenty year olds thanks to constant dueling practice with the best his army had to offer and the decadent life of an emperor had not softened his frame one whit. His hair was golden with hints of silver at the temples; the effect was regal and oddly more attractive than those golden locks without their silver gilding.

If one knew him well, then perhaps one would realize that there were old curse scars scattered along his frame. He rarely made any effort to cover them; to Gellert, those scars were marks of victory, and intimate mementoes of those who had fallen before him.

Many claimed that Gellert was beautiful, but Jean Marie knew better; he had seen his lord in repose: without the snapping wit and scalding intelligence behind his eyes, his face was nearly plain despite the neat symmetry between the eyes and mouth.

As he waited for his lord's command, Jean-Marie's thoughts never touched these superficial matters. He'd ceased to contemplate such things since he'd felt the bite of Grindlewald's wand. Now he simply obeyed. His entire existence revolved around never feeling that kind of pain again, though his worship of Grindlewald had only increased. He would do anything…anything at all for a kind word from this man.

"Report."

Jean-Marie tried to hide his slight shudder at the tone his lord took; his failure was met with a small, cold smile.

"I have succeeded in seducing Helga Malfoy my lord. She is not close to the children, but has full access to the manner. She expects them to spend at least part of their summer with the young lord." Jean cleared his throat. "I will have to put her under the impero should we need anything more than information from her. I should like to avoid it, since it might damage the child she carries."

Grindelwald nodded, but didn't comment. Jean wished that he dared to breathe a sigh of relief. The British Ministry was quite mad about the use of the impero and other curses. Even the elite might find themselves shipped off to that dreadful island if they were so careless as to get caught casting it.

"Await my order, but plan to take the children as soon as you may. I will send both gold and portkeys in the usual manner so you can be prepared." He moved to wipe the image, but Jean held up a tentative hand.

"If I may, my lord? Has Madam Ivanova been visible in the last fortnight?"

Gellert growled. "The bitch hit the grain depository no more than three days ago in an attempt to turn the people against me. I hung the head of task force naked above a pen of hungry Thestrals as an abject lesion."

Jean gulped. "My lord, at last night's ball, Helena Malfoy brought a frail old woman who resembled Madam Ivanova, claiming that her mother had been ill since her home was destroyed and that any rebel using her name was simply a fraud."

Gellert snorted. "That she-bear has plagued me for many years, and she's never been ill a day in her life. Watch Helena Malfoy carefully. She may be indicating a willingness to side with us should we invade England, and the Malfoy gold might be worth sparing that misbegotten thorn in my side. Contact John Smith if you need his aid. But don't forget to focus on your true objective. Once I have the Hallows, all of Britain and the rest of the world will bend a knee to my standard. The girl is the key. I want them both, make no mistake, but if you must choose, bring me the girl."

With that, Gellert blanked the mirror and Jean finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He ran a hand through his distressingly short locks. One month left until the Hogwarts term resumed.

Jean padded into his bedroom, but the two women taking up his bed were snoring. In the early morning light, they were even less appealing that they'd been by the flattering light in the ballroom.

He felt a bit sick at the sight of them, but he fought it down.

Perhaps some scones and tea would remove the horrible, empty feeling from his soul.

 **TRTRTR**

Hermione returned to the Flamel's home obsessed with the thought of a vaccine for dragonpox. A week of frantic research later, Tom was mildly interested. Perenelle was perhaps a bit concerned. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed more alive than Tom had ever seen him.

"The problem of course, is the double protein that coats the virus. Most white blood cells chew on it a bit and spit it back out as if the virus were dead, when in fact our own immune system activates it. Then of course it attacks the magical core so Muggles are completely unaffected. Children are less likely to die from it because their magic is so unfocused that the pox can't get a good hold…"

Nicholas was chortling and pulling out books as he basked in the light of Hermione's new 'project.'

Perenelle looked over Hermione's notes.

Nicholas was flipping through a book almost frantically, looking for only Merlin knew what. "Yes, that does explain why the potions and charms only seem to exacerbate the problem and why it kills those with stronger magic. You can't strengthen the body's natural response without actually feeding the virus."

Tom was watching Hermione as she scribbled complicated formula down like her life depended on it. "Encase it and starve it out."

Hermione turned to him, all wide eyes and bushy hair. She seemed to be looking at something deep inside herself. Then she tackled him and kissed him full on the mouth. "Tom! You are brilliant!"

She conjured another chalkboard and Nicholas slipped out to get another sealed sample of the virus. They'd already progressed to testing the effects on magically enhanced mice.

Perenelle smiled at Tom. "Good show. Speaking of starving, witch and wizard cannot live on magical discovery alone. Perhaps we should leave them to it for a bit? Make some dinner?"

Tom, still slightly red from the kiss, nodded. "Hermione did mention that one of us did need to learn to cook after Hogwarts."

Perenelle wrapped an apron around her stylish dress. "Someone being anyone but her, am I right?"

Tom Smirked as he donned his own apron. "That was the sub-text, yes."

Perenelle sharpened a rather excellent knife as Tom gathered ingredients. "I've never met a potions master or mistress that couldn't cook, and both of you have the capability. Don't let her get by with avoiding her share, at least not unless she has a good reason like curing a major disease. You are just as talented."

Tom smirked, pleased that Perenelle thought so. "She promised to learn the cleaning charms. What about Nicholas, what's his excuse?"

Perenelle laughed. "Him? Cook? I'd rather we weren't all poisoned." She shook her head. "He tried when I first married him, before I banished him from kitchen. He's a terrible potions maker too. He simply can't focus on the here and now well enough to make anything that requires his total attention. He's brilliant at the academic, but I always completed the practical. It works for us. But you know he does his part. I've never once chopped a stick of wood since I married him, nor filled a pot with water. At least not without my wand." She motioned for Tom to levitate a large cauldron to the cast iron stove.

"What are we making?"

"It will be chilly tonight, and they won't stop for hours. A nice soup will feed the two of us, and keep for whenever their bodies remind them that they need less cerebral food." She pulled out a chopping board.

"Be a love won't you? Fill it with water?"

Tom complied. Soup always reminded him of his very first act of magic…or at least the first he could remember.

There were good times and bad times at the orphanage. The worst time was one winter when the potato crop had failed the summer before. The staff was dipping into the funds for the food budget, and in between the two, there was very little to go around. Mrs. Cole wasn't the matron at the time, her predecessor, a stark, cold woman named Donovan, was less gentle.

He'd been so hungry. They shorted his bowl once again, and something inside him wanted to scream or cry, but he'd known better…

But then, as he ate, his bowl never seemed to go down. It refilled and refilled and refilled again…

No one noticed it was him, and good thing too. The next day one of the maids was fired for stealing food.

Tom later figured out that he'd been draining the large stock pot with magic.

Nothing had ever tasted so good to him as that poor, thin soup.

It wasn't half as wonderful as what he was carefully making with Perenelle, but it had filled poor belly…and it had opened the pathway of magic to him. It was fitting that the first thing he learned to make was soup.

He worked in tandem with Perenelle quietly. She commented, now and then, on how to find quality ingredients or why the ingredients mixed the way they did…but for the most part there was only the sound of the crackling fire and the bubbling of the soup.

She had him levitate another pile of wood for the fire. "I could just charm this to burn for you. It requires a lot of power, but you should have that."

He saw the color drain from her cheeks a bit. "Oh, we'll see. Bring me another potato, would you?"

That was strange. Very strange.

As he dug around in the bin, pretending to look for the perfect spud, a number of things clicked in his mind. Dumbledore was great friends with the Flamels. They were brilliant and obviously fond of him. If he was captured they would surely come for him…if they could. He'd said that many of his true friends were not duelists. But Tom thought it went deeper than that. Other than potions, he never saw them use powerful magic. Perenelle seemed tired sometimes after simple levitation charms.

He turned back, potato in hand, and his most charming expression on his face. "You don't waste magic, that's for certain. I suppose, it was different, before, when Muggles might catch you and tie you to a stake."

Perenelle snorted. "There was never any chance of that. We use plenty of magic, or have you forgotten watching me convert iron to gold?" Her expression was light, but her tone was off.

It did nothing but confirm what he suddenly knew to be true.

The price of using the stone was most of your magic. And neither he nor Hermione could afford to be weak.

 **PFPFPFPF**

When one made the philosopher's stone, there were certain oaths that one took. One of them was never to reveal the stone's nature to anyone who had not created the stone with you. The price had to remain hidden until those that sought it came to the understanding on their own. The isolation from those around you. The lack of children once you took the elixir. The very magic inside you.

She could not tell her brilliant students the price it would require if they should continue down the path they had so childishly decided to follow.

But she could guide them, guard them, and give them her unspoken support.

She sent a silent prayer that it would be enough.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas had to congratulate himself. He'd pried both Hermione and Tom from whatever research they were immersed in with the Flamels, and practically ordered them to take a bit of a break before term started. They'd arrived days ago, and he had insisted on ordering their school things and dealing with the bill. They protested of course, but it was done. "This way you can't claim that you need to attend to that instead of keeping me amused. You'll be at Hogwarts without me until Christmas!"

Hermione lifted a brow. "I didn't realize that it was my job to keep you amused."

Abraxas was totally unrepentant. "Amused and informed. And we need to go over the members of the Knights so you'll know how to deal with them, and then Tom and I can discuss Quidditch formations for the team. I expect Dippet will wait until next year to name him Captain, but it never hurts to be prepared."

They would be spending Christmas with him…no matter who he had to manipulate to make it so. He fully intended to make them the godparents for his child, no matter what Helga muttered about when he informed her.

His wife had complained bitterly when he proposed a ball, but he ignored her. She was still in the first trimester, but her worries that the baby would be in danger from the stress were nonsensical; his mother did all the planning and the elves did all the work. Her only stress was deciding whether should accentuate her growing belly like any sensible woman, or continue to hide it with glamors. It wasn't much of a bump, but protruding from her too-thin frame it was rather obvious without magic.

Then again, perhaps the real stress of Helga's situation was her choice of lovers.

At the moment, she was sitting in a chair, seemingly oblivious, where her long term 'friend' glared at the voluptuous witch that split her time between Helga and the French wizard, Jean Marie Bassett. Helga looked more than a bit green as she sipped some sort of sparkling juice instead of wine.

Abraxas sighed. He certainly wished that she would have waited until after the child was born to be so publicly unfaithful. Not that there would be any doubt about the lineage of the child once he was born. Malfoys bred true. It was just a tad insulting.

If she had only allowed herself to be aware for their 'wedding night'…

Abraxas firmly controlled a shudder. Merlin. Never again. _Never again_. He promised himself that he would never have to touch a woman who didn't wish it. He'd rather give up sex entirely that do that again.

The French bastard leaned down and whispered something in Helga's ear, eliciting a delighted (if screechy) laugh. Abraxas wondered if she'd taken him as a lover as well.

Abraxas had avoided all such encounters himself, and the offers were…somewhat tempting. Once one's duty to one's family was done, a pure-blood's time was really theirs to do with as they chose. He'd been propositioned by matrons and debutants; men and women. Some, perhaps most, wanted the connection with the Malfoy name. A few simply desired his golden locks and fit frame. One or two were intrigued by his personality. He put them all off. It seemed uncouth to bed any or all of them while a witch was incubating his heir.

Obviously, the witch in question didn't share his squeamishness.

That miffed him, more than a bit, but he wasn't fool enough to call her out on it. As long as she didn't endanger herself or the child, it was enough for the moment. It wasn't as if it were a love match (ha!)

Abraxas' eyes turned to Tom and Hermione on the dance floor. She was laughing at something he said, genuine affection written clear on her face. He was a bit taller perhaps (thankfully, he'd had the tailor add a self-sizing charm to the robes…it was a must when purchasing for young gentlemen who were seemingly able to grow an entire foot over a two-week period). She was still pixie-like, which seemed peculiar when paired with her power, intelligence, and that odd wisdom that she could never quite hide.

Another screeching laugh from his wife drew his attention back to Helga. She seemed…off tonight. He would blame it on the wine, but she'd abstained.

He felt his feet wander toward her a few steps before he stopped himself, uncertain. He didn't inflict his presence on her more than he had to. He felt his feet carry him forward again, drawn to her by some unknown force.

Jean-Marie was draped over the arm of her chair, while Helga's old 'friend' Beatrice glared at everyone and everything. The little tart that Helga had recently taken up with had a spiteful expression on her face, as the other woman seemed to be fighting back tears.

He caught the edge of a whisper as he approached. "You don't mean it Helga! Not after everything…everything we've been through, everything I've given up for you…you can't just abandon me."

Helga looked confused. "I have told you before, we are nothing. Simply old friends…"

Beatrice grabbed the smaller woman's arm and sneered. "No, that's what you told everyone else. Never what you told _me, old friend_."

She stalked off, leaving Helga.

Abraxas tried a non-verbal spell to end enchantment, but Helga's expression didn't change. The French wizard hadn't noticed him yet, but the man was getting sloppy. He wasn't hiding his cat-got-the-cream smirk.

Abraxas wrapped his arms around his wife. She tried to jerk away. He pretended to nuzzle her ear while he whispered, "Don't make a scene."

His wand was out, as he added a small charm to make it easier to carry her. He looked at the Frenchman, who seemed frankly amazed. "Stress. It's been a very stressful day for my wife." His voice carried. He hated making a scene, but he still carried her out of the ballroom in a way that sent half the silly chits in the room to sighing about the romance of it all. He could hardly toss her over his shoulder like a caveman when the witch was pregnant!

He took her to her room and called Chirpy, the elf that had often watched his father. "I need a mild sleeping potion that's safe for her while she's with child." In an instant, the elf was back and Abraxas managed to get it down Helga's unresponsive throat. "I will call a healer. Watch her please. Don't let her leave the room and alert me if she tries. Do not allow anyone into the room without my permission. I may send Mother to you."

"Yes sir." Squeaked the little elf.

He ordered another elf to go to their family physician and bring him to the manor. "Make certain he's sober before he shows up, better take a hangover potion with you." The old man was foxed by eight o'clock on any given evening, but he was the best healer in the country when he was sober.

He made his way down to the ballroom to inform his mother. An open door to the gardens drew his notice…just as the light from some serious spell work and the sound of a port-key popping reached his ears.

Tom and Hermione were nowhere to be found…and neither was Jean Marie Bassett.


	35. Chapter 35

_**AN: Updating a day early because I hate cliffhangers too…and since I'm writing this part as we go, I didn't know exactly what happened either…as a writer, there were two paths I could take to get to the end of the fic the way I wanted to: two paths diverged in a narrow wood…to quote Robert Frost. This is the path that adds complications to the story, which is always the right path to take if you are a writer. (I might mention it also added word count I wasn't expecting, so expect this to run at least 120k). I'll update by Sunday of next week.**_

Hermione watched Abraxas carry his wife out of the ballroom with deep suspicion.

Her mind was racing with topical and non-magical aids that might help him survive (things she'd researched in her 'spare' time as she waited for results between experiments).

Surely Helga would wait at least until the child was born? She'd have no part in the Malfoy fortune if there was no heir.

Or was the woman going to kill him simply to get out of a marriage that denied her very nature?

Hermione searched her memories for any hint Draco might have dropped in conversation at Hogwarts. Had Helga raised Lucius alone? Had Helena raised him? What had seeded the hate in his heart?

It was ridiculous to be worried over the future of someone who wasn't even born, but Hermione couldn't help it. Lucius Malfoy had been the cause of a great deal of strife in her last childhood. If she could keep him from choosing the dark…she would weaken it considerably. And she told herself firmly that making certain Lucius had Abraxas was the best way to see to that. She couldn't imagine 'Brax raising someone so narrow minded. Well…perhaps before he'd met her…but not now.

She blanched as she realized he didn't know that she was muggleborn. The issue seemed to fall to the wayside, and it was never even mentioned to her face. With all the teasing that Minerva endured as a half-blood and the reaction to Hagrid, it seemed odd.

Then again, she'd sat right down beside the Slytherin prince after her sorting. She and Tom might be 'orphans' but the others acted like ending up in Slytherin was a free pass. Considering his views on blood, she supposed…

But then why would the hat sort her into Slytherin's nest of snakes? Simply because she'd insisted on being with Tom?

Or was it just because the hat had once belonged to Gryffindor? Sorting her into Slytherin was surely a prank worthy of Fred and George Weasley. A wave of mingled sadness and fondness hit her, thinking of those two. They'd loved her, just the way she was, blood status and all. Most days she was well-adjusted to her new life…after all, all of her old friends had passed on well before she had, except for Neville. She'd had time to be used to people in her life being absent before she agreed to this journey. She found that they rested in her mind in a place where they were forever young and laughing…like an idealized version of themselves during their Hogwarts years. Not that any of them would have wanted to go back to those school days once they were over!

She held in a giggle that would have had one of those slightly hysterical edges to it.

Tom touched her arm, somewhat alarmed at the thoughts he could feel under the surface of her 'public' mind. He didn't push through that upper layer of thought (which was brilliantly controlled for any mind magic, much less one performed by a boy not yet fifteen). She looked up to reassure him…

And felt the full force of a well-cast body bind curse hit both of them.

Her eyes flicked to Jean Marie Bassett as the rest of the room watched the exit Abraxas had made, completely distracted. As if it were planned. He levitated them out the door while pretending to gossip about Helga's 'faint'. No one noticed.

Hermione hadn't been quite this annoyed in some time.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Tom fought the body bind while his body was maneuvered out of the ballroom like a human-shaped trunk.

He was helpless as he watched Hermione lifted through the door by that pawn of Grindelwald's. The French man. The _dead_ man. His lily white hands ghosted over Hermione's body, touching her waist, her back. His eyes were bright with triumph.

Tom's mind seethed with rage he'd forgotten somehow.

He tried to wandlessly remove the curse. He battered the magic with his own power, like hitting a steel wall with fists. It reverberated unpleasantly inside his head. Tom ignored the discomfort, and tried to move his face, his mouth…anything. Nothing worked.

Magic swirled inside him, lashing at the other man's spell. It was dangerous, boiling, angry, and fierce. It lifted his senses to a higher level as he felt the adrenalin hit his system.

He felt like he had lightning in his veins as he fought the curse, suddenly not doubting that he would be the victor.

He heard them before he saw them. Snakes. Dozens of them, answering the pull of his magic. Jean-Marie didn't go far into the garden before he stopped to pull out a letter that Tom assumed was spelled to portkey them wherever Grindlewald wanted them to go.

Jean-Marie took hold of Hermione while his doxy man-handled Tom.

The snakes didn't waste time; but their attack was all wrong. They attacked to free Tom, not Hermione.

He tried to guide them with his face or eyes, but they just swarmed the woman. She screamed and began tossing hexes at the snakes, grazing Tom and hitting her accomplice but rarely landing anything on her slithering attackers. The Frenchman tried to stop her, but in the end he simply abandoned her and grabbed Tom by his collar, which was when the snakes finally struck at him.

Jean Marie was better with a wand, but it only took seconds for him to squeal like a girl and snatch at the letter, holding Hermione near his body, clutching Tom with his other hand.

Hermione managed to undo her body bind and kicked viciously at the man, struggling. But she kicked at the arm holding Tom. Tom's horror at her action gave him the power to finally end the body bind spell, and he pulled away, rolling, reaching out an arm to take Hermione.

He was too late.

With a sudden pop, they were gone. He had nothing but a hand full of empty air.

Deranged, he tackled the woman who was still trying to fend off the snakes. He finally found his wand shoved into her reticule.

His eyes were dark as he stupefied her.

" _Don't kill"_ he warned the snakes as they approached. If anyone had been near, they would have seen that his face was inhumanly cold as he surveyed the hexed woman in front of him. _"We have to find out what she knows first."_

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione had traveled in many more portkeys in her life than young Jean-Marie; with portkeys, the trick was to control the spin. Hermione did, Jean-Marie was sloppy. She had her wand out of his pocket the instant they landed. She smirked as she stupefied him.

Two burly guards were pointing wands at her, while another dozen were patrolling the landing site. Apparently, she was expected.

She thought, ' _Merlin, I hope I know what I'm doing._ ' She put her own wand into the wrist sheath hidden under the sleeve of her gown. Then she turned to the lead guard. "Well? Do I have to stay here all night? Take me to Gellert Grindlewald."

 **HGHGHG**

She marched between two of the over-muscled guards, absently wondering what Grindelwald was feeding them. It wasn't natural for all him men to be so buff. Wizards generally weren't. These wizards reminded her of old photos of soldiers for communist block countries during the cold war, or idealized uber-men from the Natzi ranks…except it was all of them, and that didn't happen in nature.

They led her through the labyrinth-like castle, not once, but twice: either to confuse her or because they missed the turn and didn't know how to find it without going all the way through the blasted thing again. It wasn't hugely massive, but it was still quite the workout. Perhaps their unnatural fitness wasn't entirely due to questionable potions…

Eventually (though it was perhaps fifteen minutes from when she arrived), they came to a dark, wooden door.

The head goon opened it for her and nodded respectfully as he motioned her inside. Grindlewald's eyes widened slightly from his chair. Apparently he was expecting a very different entrance.

"My dear Miss Granger! How lovely that you could join me tonight. You seem to have made an impression my head guard." His glee was clear on his face as he shut his book with a snap. "Gustev is not easily impressed." He made a show of pouring far too much sugar into his cup as Hermione sat in the chair across from him and helped herself to his tea pot. She felt an odd sense of peace. Whatever happened, Tom was safe. He had Abraxas and Dumbledore. His darkness was still there of course, but it was muted.

She beamed at Grindelwald, knowing that in the larger view of things, she was in no danger. "How lovely of you to invite me. You have your guards well-trained to respond to authority. I simply spoke the right language and he gave me the respect due my rank, whatever he seems to think that rank might be. I did think some of your courtesy was lost in the delivery of the invitation to join you tonight. I've dealt with that issue, I think. Perhaps another reason Gustav likes me."

Gellert Grindelwald cocked his head to the side, positively (and quite literally) on the edge of his seat. "Whatever do you mean?"

She made a quasi-concerned face that did nothing to hide her true feelings. "I'm afraid your errand boy was somewhat rougher than he should have been in delivering your summons. Don't worry, he's merely stunned."

Grindlewald looked like a child on Christmas morning. "Really? I apologize. Shall I reprimand him myself?"

"Perhaps another time. Our time tonight is limited."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment. Instead he leaned back in his chair and made a show of looking around. "Where is your young comrade?"

She shrugged. "Tom is with me on all things of course, but should he be examined, his occlumency is not quite where I would like for it to be for this. I intend to tell him everything. He will be fine once I place a charm on him when I return, but I didn't want him to give the game away too soon."

He put his head in his hand like a fascinated child. "You've changed your mind about Dumbledore."

"I have accepted that he is not the ally I wish him to be. Perhaps, in time. I am not ready to give him up just yet, he's really quite brilliant."

"He'll never side with me."

"I have already begun the process of removing the impediment. He will reconcile with his brother, and they will fight again. He'll be left feeling more isolated than ever and I will be there. The girl that gives him hope; takes tea with him. Who better to understand him than his brilliant student? And I do understand him, you know."

She dangled the bait enticingly…champion of the dark he might be, but Grindlewald was as human as any other man, and he'd surrounded himself with lesser men. It grated on his soul and made him feel stymied and irritable.

The man himself was no fool. He knew she was manipulating him. "How I wish I could trust you Miss Granger." He loomed over her, and she did not enjoy the way he was looking at her. He whispered, "What changed your mind about me pet?" He ran his fingers over her hair, but she didn't let the shudder show, not in her body, not in her eyes.

"Let's not start an arms race with nick-names. If you call me pet, I'll counter with Grindle-wobbly, and it will only escalate from there." He gave another delighted chortle. She was amusing him with her cheek. That was good. Now she just had to keep it up.

"I will send you an owl with the dates of the first Hogsmead weekend. I'll try to bring Tom then, but I can tell you of the progress in my Dumbledore project." She finished her tea and stood. "I do need to be 'found' rather quickly. The Malfoys will not call the Aurors before they extract the information from Jean-Marrie's doxy, but it won't take long. Helena is both skilled and ruthless."

Grindlewald smirked. "Much like her mother then. But whatever makes you think you are leaving pet? I have not agreed to that." He tugged at her and she sat close to him on the settee. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Because Grindle-wobbly, I'm going to tell you exactly where you can find the resurrection stone, as a sign of good faith."

 **TRTRTR**

Tom stood over the stupid, blubbering woman. Helena's presence had kept the questioning mostly painless for her, but the verataserum was working well.

"He was taking you to Grindlewald. He wants both of you. Something about heirs…or an heir…"

Snot was coming out of her nose as her head hung down. Tom grabbed her mussed hair and jerked hard. Abraxas pulled him off.

The other man was about to ask his mother something when his whole face changed. He and his mother exchanged a look. "Mother?"

Helena's eyes were burning with something. "Go. Find out. But be careful. There is no good reason to let her go."

Tom tried to make his mind understand the implications, but the strain on his adrenals left him feeling slow. His rage had burned so hot and so fast that it had seemingly taken his bones as fuel. The rage was still there, dark embers surrounded by ash, only waiting for him to recover so it could had fuel to rise again.

Abraxas, true to form, did not explain. He simply grabbed Tom and seconds later they were at the edge of the property, where Hermione seemed to be leaning against a tree.

Tom was on her instantly, wand drawn. "What was the name of Hermione's friend, the one who died killing the dark wizard?"

Half her face gave him a tired smile. "My friend's name was Harry. He knew quite a bit about Hallows quests."

Tom enveloped her in his arms, loosing balance and they both ended in the light dusting of snow on the ground, little twigs and leaves crunching under the weight of their bodies. Abraxas laughed and pulled them both up and took his embrace in turn. "Merlin woman. We thought we'd lost you."

She looked around. "You didn't call the aurors did you?"

Abraxas shook his head. "No." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good. We don't want to raise a fuss. If Jean Marie returns to London, be certain to extend him invitations as usual."

Tom pulled her back into his arms. "I don't think that will be an issue. He's going to be dead."

She patted his arm absently. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Do you know where they were trying to take you Hermione?"

She snorted. "Where they did take me. Grindlewald spoke with me and let me return."

Abraxas took a deep breath. "Why in Salazar's name would he do that?"

"Because he needs something from me. And I told him exactly how he could get it."


	36. Chapter 36

_**As all of you who follow this story know, I try to update on Sunday of every week. Saturdays are normally busy with one thing or another. Sundays I clean my house and reward myself with writing time. I don't have the chapters pre-written and locked away. I write them by hand during my breaks and lunches during the week and refine and edit as I type.**_

 _ **I had a note from a Guest this morning, someone who was having a really bad day. Identity stolen among other things. Yuck. I've been there. I was planning to veg out, watch Treehouse Masters, and make muffins today, but I'm going to try to post this instead.**_

 _ **To the reader who asked me so nicely to update: Keep your chin up.**_

Hermione sat in the Malfoy Library with a warm cup of tea in her hands and Tom wrapped around her body like a constrictor. She ran her hands over him, his arms, his hair; whatever she could touch. She was pleased to see that her hands didn't shake. She took in his scent, his shampoo (brewed himself with a citrus scent that she found secretly intoxicating…and he knew it) a hint of leftover cologne (that he must have borrowed from Abraxas), and the slight tinge of sweat that still held a hint of fear.

"I realized that trying to fight my way out was useless. His men aren't the wizard that _he_ is, but they're known all over the word as a formidable fighting machine. It's why the wizarding world hasn't banded together and moved against him yet."

She tried to mentally tally his forces, but she hadn't seen enough of the barracks and the stores…an army moved on its stomach after all. If you could guess how much they were using in provisions, then you could guess the numbers…it was just harder to do when you added magic to the equation.

She took a sip of tea, realizing that three sets of eyes were waiting for her to continue. "I brazened it out. I had to offer him the location of one of the Deathly Hallows and dangle Albus Dumbledore in front of him like a cat toy, but he let me come back."

Abraxas let out a breath. "The Deathly Hollows are real? And you are helping a madman find them?"

She shrugged. "I am not certain the story is real…the whole bit about Death seems a bit farfetched. They are simply powerful, dangerous artifacts." She chuckled. "It's been rumored that he had the Deathstick for years…the wand from the Hallows. It's true. Tom and I noticed it when he tried to take us last year. I knew where the Resurrection Stone is. I saw it. In my mind it's the most dangerous to the owner. He might have the idea to raise an army of Inferi with it, but the magic doesn't work like that. Either by accident or design, the stone acts to attract the owner to death. It drives most of them mad."

Abraxas shook his head. "That helps how? It seems like a bad idea to give a charismatic world leader something that will make him mad as a hatter."

"Most of them also end up killing themselves if that helps."

Helena took a sip of her own tea. "He wants the Hallows to secure his power base. He told a rather large lie when he started using the wand: he said that he was the last living descendant of the Three Brothers in the story. The Peverell family name is fairly widespread through the magical community, though the line died out. But everyone knows that the two elder brothers died childless."

Hermione shook her head. "That's not entirely true. The ring was on Morphin Gaunt's hand. I suspect it is a family heirloom. The Gaunts are related to a lot of the old families…including Salazar Slytherin."

Tom's breath caught. "I'm related to a founder?" He frowned. "How long have you known?"

"I've suspected since I learned you could speak to snakes. That particular trait is inherited by blood. One has to be a relative of Herpo of Greece in order to speak to snakes. It was much more likely to be an inherited trait rather than a spontaneous mutation." It felt good to slip into professor mode…Tom always teased her about it. "It's like almost all Metamorphs are related to Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt."

Abraxas frowned. "Who?"

"She was one of the line of Wizard kings and queen of Egypt. Eighteenth Dynasty. She declared herself Pharaoh. Everyone thought she was sporting a false beard but she was a Metamorph. The first one documented, although probably not the first in History. She ruled for fifteen years and once her stepson was old enough, she slipped away." All three of them looked at Hermione. She'd gotten lost in the old story. She'd always loved that bit of History when she was a little girl, and it had only gotten better once she learned about the ancient Egyptian wizards.

Helena cleared her throat. "I'd never heard about that."

Hermione shrugged. "Rare mutations are easier to track, historically speaking." She turned to Abraxas and tugged the end of his pale mane. "Like that hair! Your son will be as blond as you, and your grandson, and great-grandson…" She'd been trying to lighten the mood, but Helena smiled with tears in her eyes. Oops. Looked like she'd let the cat completely out of the bag…but with all the blond male heads in the family portrait gallery surely her little observation wasn't too surprising?

Abraxas smiled up at her, and tugged on her hair. "And what about these curls?"

She side-stepped the question. "It is yet to be seen if they will go down in history, but one would hope not. One would like to be remembered for something other than one's hair!"

Abraxas stretched like a cat. "Oh I don't know…when one has gorgeous locks like myself…" His mother slapped his arm lightly.

"It's not something I want banded about though Tom…your bloodline. I don't want Gellert to get the idea of removing a potential heir." She didn't know how likely it was that Gellert would remove Morphin for trying to assassinate Tom. Hopefully the thought wouldn't occur to him since the stone didn't traditionally pass ownership through dueling.

Helena sighed. "That brings up how we're going to hide the two of you. I think we should include Dumbledore on this discussion but my owl hasn't returned yet. He must be somewhere unplotable." She was pouring another cup of tea.

"I'm not going to hide Helena. I'm going to take the opportunity he's presenting me with. I can get us information from his inner circle…"

She didn't get to finish because Helena dropped the beautiful porcelain teapot and it shattered on the floor into millions of tiny sharp shards.

"Hermione, dear. You are an unquestionably brilliant child…but you can't possibly think…"

"That I can't spy on him; be a double agent? I have a unique set of skills and I'm much more valuable to Grindelwald than his average follower. As long as I have unique information that he can't get elsewhere then I will be safe enough." It wasn't like she hadn't been tortured before.

"But why give him the benefit of your sight?"

"He thinks I'm planning to take over the world. He assumes that other people want the same things he does, and since I'm powerful, it doesn't surprise him when I say that I'd like to. He'll trust my age and my greed. If he offers me most of what he thinks I want for service under him, he'll expect I'll take the easier route to power. In the meantime I can work toward saving lives within his empire and slowing down his march on England."

Hermione changed the subject. "The important thing for the Malfoy family is that Helga was unaware of Jean Marie's plans."

Abraxas filled his cup from the whiskey decanter. "And here I thought I'd found a way to get rid of the harpy."

"That harpy is the mother of your son."

"And I will treat her as such, as long as she at least shows loyalty to her son and this family. Being unfaithful to me is one thing. A bit annoying, but expected under the circumstances. But to jump into bed with a man who was obviously just using her for information? It reeks of a desperation for attention that is most unbecoming." He took a long pull of his whiskey. "And speaking of reeking, the tart that Jean Marie brought into my home is still in the dungeon."

Helena frowned. "She'll just have to stay there until Dumbledore comes. We need a powerful memory charm."

Hermione smiled vindictively. "I can do it. I think she's exactly the sort that should move to Canada and set up in a remote log cabin to raise chickens."

Helena looked a bit green. "Chickens?"

"Oh yes. Without magic." Hermione knew the woman might have had limited choices in her life, but she was an adult and she had tried to kidnap herself and Tom. Jean Marie would have had a much harder time without an accomplice. So some punishment was in order.

Helena mirrored Hermione's smile. "Ah yes. I suppose chickens are in order. Do make sure she's a polite chicken owner, won't you dear? We'd hate for the Canadians to have to put up with her with her current personality."

 **HGTMHGTM**

Albus returned to his rooms at Hogwarts with muffled curses and began stripping out of his robes as soon as he entered.

Visiting his brother was always an exercise in frustration. He balled the robes up and incinerated them. They smelled strongly of goat dung even after three powerful cleaning spells.

Damn Alberforth anyway. He should simply sign the cottage over to him and be done. Albus couldn't imagine why he hadn't…

An irritated owl flapped into the room and dropped a rolled bit of parchment on his floor. Fawkes trilled a warning at the bird, which looked like it would very much like to take a snap at Albus' nude body. Instead, it buffeted his head slightly with feather and flew out the window.

Dumbledore smiled at his friend. "Had she been waiting long?"

The bird didn't answer, but then he never did.

The smile faded from his face as he read the note. Helena Malfoy had a way of putting a situation on paper succinctly.

The Malfoy matron assumed that Hermione would go into hiding, but Albus feared she was underestimating Hermione.

She had faced Gellert Grindlewald in his own stronghold after being kidnapped from a place that should have been safe. She'd want to go back to spy, thinking to offset the damage as best she could.

Albus started shaking.

She was a child! No child should ever be exposed to Gellert.

He made it to his toilet before he vomited, and counted it as a win.

Albus knew, better than most, the lengths Gellert would go to, and worse, his personal proclivities. There was only one thing that he respected, only one thing that he was attracted to. Power. Neither her age nor her sex would be any deterrent. It would only add spice. He would use taking her as a lover as a way to bind her to him. He might even be considering that it was time for an heir.

Albus stood under the hot spray of the shower and scrubbed his skin until it bled. Washing and rinsing, washing and rinsing. Knowing that he needed to stop and get out, but never feeling clean enough to do so.

The water was running pink when he finally talked himself out and every inch of his skin stung.

He healed it of course. It was baby pink, but he had crèmes to make that fade. This sort of thing…happened.

His hands shook as he dressed, and he summoned a blood replenisher. He didn't think he'd lost that much blood, but there was no harm in taking one. He scrubbed his mouth the same way he'd scrubbed his body…and healed it too.

Robed, he looked much like he always did.

Inside, he was much like he had been since Gellert had revealed what he truly was all those years before.

Gellert hadn't been his first lover, but he was his first love. Albus had never met anyone his own age who had the same thirst for knowledge, the same creative spark. In those dark days after his mother's funeral, lying in Gellert's arms had given him the strength (and the reason) to get out of bed each morning.

His mind shied away from remembering the good times. _He couldn't._

Albus had known every inch of that golden tan skin once. Had seen it gloriously displayed in firelight, candlelight, and sunlight. He knew every single dip, and ridge, and plane. The precise texture of Geller's lips, and the way he hummed when chopping potions ingredients, and the tiny scar he had from trying to make potions when he was three and nearly sliced off a finger.

He knew so much about him. He had thought that he knew him.

Albus picked up the brush and started on his teeth again, but he winced and set the brush down. He didn't have time to indulge this, not now.

It wasn't just the torture and the murders that twisted Albus' stomach. It was Gellert's penchant for rape, and the fact that he tolerated it among his ranks…and never reigned them in when it came to the subject's age or sex. Sexual violence was common in war, but most generals punished their men when the atrocities reached a certain point.

Gellert had not.

Gellert had laughed and took the victims himself, encouraging it.

Albus shuddered. Because he'd seen the results in his spying missions, in the broken minds of those who were left alive because it was far crueler than killing them.

No one talked about what it did to a person when they learned that their lover…someone they loved was a monster. No one mentioned the soul sickness and self-hate that came not from your own actions, but from knowing a body that had touched you gently, had given you such pleasure had gone on to do such evil.

Gellert hurt people. And the closer you were to him, the more likely you were to get hurt.

He had intimate proof of this, and the emotional scars to prove it.

Albus finished dressing quickly. He had to speak with Hermione…make her see, warn her. Even if it meant revealing all the things he didn't wish to speak of.

 **ADADADAD**

If one had asked Albus Dumbledore under truth serum, he might have admitted (if he couldn't find a way around it) that he expected to be the person making the most pivotal decisions when it came to defense against Gellert Grindlewald. He was, after all, the closest thing Gellert had ever had to an equal. They both knew this. Albus had known the man, feared him, and obsessively followed his movements for many years, hoping against hope for a change or for a slip-up. Anything. Because in his heart of hearts, he knew that he the one who was fated to duel him.

Somehow, in Albus' mind, these facts had made him the leader of any group that chose to stand against Grindlewald. The del-facto head, as it were.

His expectations were brutally (and unexpectedly) dashed against the reef that was the will of Hermione Granger.

He had carefully explained why she would not be spying. He had even shown her memories of Gellert's victims that made her go white around the lips. He'd begun to tell her how he would arrange for her (and Tom of course, they were nearly the same entity) to go into hiding with the Flamels when her voice cut across his.

"You know you can't actually stop me."

Albus raised a brow. "Can't I?"

She looked at him with eyes no child had ever had. "No. If you act against me, I can use it. It would end his hope of recruiting you, which would make me less valuable, and put you in a considerable amount of danger…not all of his lieutenants are dunderheads you know…"

"I will not allow a child…"

Her eyes flashed and there was something dangerous in there. "Haven't I just said? You don't get a choice. He has to be stopped and I'm the one who has to do this part. Don't worry…you will have your bit to do."

Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"May I speak with Hermione alone?"

The others left, reluctantly. Tom was last of all.

"No child, however mature can realize the depth of his…"

"Sexual depravity?" Her voice was hard. "I know what you are warning me about Albus. I know I look like prey. I'm not. I won't go in without anti-rape jinxes on myself and a port-key that I can operate with a blink, but this could end the war, and end it years before…"

In her passion she'd slipped a bit.

"Before you see it ending."

"Something like that. The last bit of wars is always the worst. Unless you have the element of surprise. We don't, and we won't unless someone can sneak in there."

"You'll be discovered."

"I don't think I will, but I will prepare for it. I've been tortured, I can take a great deal and still think around it. At least enough to get out." She seemed to consider for a moment. "Perhaps a two-way mirror in a compact? I may have to become a girly girl for this role so I can keep it with me."

Albus tried another argument. "You'll put Tom in danger."

"Tom's already in danger. Gellert wants him as much as he does me. He wants to mould Tom into a younger version of himself and wallow in the darkness with him. I know why he wants us. I know that bit better than you do."

"I doubt it. Don't forget, he was my lover."

He waited to see if that knowledge shocked her. Of course it didn't. The insufferable child was a seer…or something like one. "I know he was. Was he…? Did he hurt you when you were together?"

It wasn't a question he'd ever answered. "Yes. Not at first. At first he was a perfect lover, thoughtful, kind, funny. But his act only lasts a short while and soon enough the things he really wants have to be sated. And everything he truly wants in a lover involves pain, and not the kind that anyone sane enjoys."

He blushed as he admitted this to a child. But he felt her thin arms wrap around him and for some reason, it didn't remind him of a child. It reminded him of when his grandmother had hugged him before she died, when he was very young.

Hermione petted his hair. "I am sorry he hurt you, but you mustn't let that define you. Don't let him make you doubt your own power and skill, not as a wizard, and not as a man either. I know you've avoided other loves for most of your adult life because of this moment. It's time to put this pain away." He looked into her eyes and felt her mind reaching into his. She didn't erase anything, but some of the raw edges were buffed a little.

"Darkness has no power. It steals it from you and me when we let it control our actions." She kissed his forehead and he held her.

 **TRTRTR**

If there was one thing Tom didn't doubt in the world it was that where Hermione went, he was going. It didn't matter to him if that was Hogwarts or hell.

So when she fought for her right to spy, he stood on the sidelines, mentally readying himself for this task. He'd need to work on his shields, add some really nasty hexes to his repertoire, and discuss Grindlewald's psychology with Hermione.

So when he held her that night, he asked, and she started talking about the man's personality…but not like he would ever meet him.

"But Tom, no, of course you aren't going! I only promised him that so I could come back. I can't have you there."

"I'm sorry. You seem to have mistaken yourself for the person who gets to tell me where to go and what to do Miss Granger." He kissed her, but there was steel in his tone. She was his. He let the genial smile fade from his face like it had never been there. "I'm better than you with a wand. You need me at your back."

"If I'm there alone all he can do is torture or kill me…if he has you, he can rip my soul to shreds."

He crushed her to him. "You'll have to make the choice. Either we both go or neither of us does. All of those unnamed lives you could save are worth the danger to you right? If it is, it's worth it for me as well."

She narrowed her eyes. "Tom, please don't do this. You know who I'll choose."

He didn't, not really, and it must have shown on his face. "If I had to choose, I would choose you against all those unnamed people. Give up my own life? I could do that. Give you your life?" She shuddered, obviously sick at even the thought. " _Never_."

He stopped talking and kissed her then, and for the first time the urge to take it further than she'd previously allowed was there and very real. His lips moved to her neck and he sucked the delicate skin until there was a lovely mark. His.

"That's how I feel about you Hermione. You are mine. I will not lose you to anyone." He kissed her deeply, letting the hunger he felt for her flow thorough his mouth so she could feel it. She trembled under him.

He cupped her face in both of his hands. "We know who he is. Grindlewald. But don't forget who _we_ are Hermione. If you want to drag him to the gate of hell with your own two delicate hands I will help you, but I won't let you leave me behind. You don't want to fight a war on two fronts. You can't afford to fight me and Gellert Grindlewald at the same time."

"I shouldn't have to! I am trying to keep you alive."

"Living without you would be a kind of death."

She sighed. "You aren't good enough at occlumency yet."

He smiled, knowing that victory was only a matter of time. "Then teach me…later." And with that, he let the discussion drop and turned his attention to kissing her in as many places as she would let him get away with.


	37. Chapter 37

_**AN: I hope everyone is having a lovely weekend! It's been a busy one here. It is so nice to sit down and write! Such a wonderful escape from my everyday existence. I think I would go crazy without it. I think it is time again to say 'thank you' for all of the reviews. It is so nice that so many of you take the time. Honestly, they make me smile all week while I work on different projects (I have a couple going that are not fanfiction.)**_

 _ **I was looking at it and it might go a bit over the 120 k mark I estimated (after I changed it from 100,000). There's still a lot I want to cover, and they are only beginning fourth year! Writing this has been so smooth too…it just flows, like it was meant to be written. It's a beautiful feeling. I am so glad we've been on this adventure together. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you! See you next week.**_

It might have surprised Nicholas and Perenelle that the morning after a kidnapping attempt (an attempt that was entirely successful except for the victim's ability to talk her way free) that a student would be back in the lab, ready to start another phase of experimentation.

It didn't surprise Tom in the least.

Hermione wasn't one to waste anything, much less a fully stocked potions lab and the assistance of two of the finest alchemists that had ever lived.

And she was still spooked about dragonpox. He didn't ask why. She was the seer. If she was working on a cure, he had to believe that there was a good reason for it.

What disturbed him was the undeniable fact that she was quite obviously not prepared to do whatever it took to survive. There seemed to be a long list of things she would give up her life for, and though that list began with Tom, he would much rather have her beside him living her life than dying for him.

So while everyone else was in a creative frenzy in the lab, he made his way to the library.

The philosopher's stone would drain their magic; he had established that. He wouldn't trade anything for magic; not all the gold or longevity in the world matched the thrill of feeling magic racing like lightning in his veins.

But if the philosopher's stone was out of reach, perhaps there was another way. They didn't have to have gold…at least; they didn't have to create something with alchemy that would make gold. Right now, becoming impervious was more important. They'd find some way to make their fortune, once they assured themselves of their continued existence.

It didn't take long before he had a small fort of discarded books in front of him.

A Nemean Lion's skin would work, but they were endangered and were native to Greece (not to mention being nearly impossible to kill). It would be hard to make into anything besides a shaggy cloak as well, which would look a bit odd. He didn't want to advertize she had protection, and ideally, he'd like something he could replicate.

Closer to home, there was a pool on the isle of Avalon that was rumored to make the drinker immune to pain; Tom book marked that book as a possible ingredient for potion making, but he didn't think it would be helpful in a fight. Pain had a purpose after all; it was there to let the brain know that parts of the body were damaged. It wouldn't do to slice off an arm and not notice until it was three paces to your left and still holding your wand.

He found a nasty bit of dark magic in a book called Magic Moste Evil. If one killed someone and hid a bit of their soul away in an object, then the person couldn't be killed. He snorted and put the grimy thing away. Hermione would never kill anyone just to make herself invulnerable. And while Tom's moral compass might list a bit to the left on occasion, even he wasn't about to propose it.

Book after book; scrolls, and even a clay tablet or two were carefully examined. There were many possibilities: finicky potions that could be brewed, spells that might be cast, ancient objects that could be found.

Still, Tom didn't like relying on anything that might be taken from her or something she had to imbibe too often. He needed to know she was going to be able to walk into Grindlewald's inner circle and come back to him. Especially if he had to let her go a time or two by herself.

He only noticed that the sun had set when he automatically lit a candle.

He sighed as he looked around at the pile of books. He shelved them with a careful wave of his wand, only leaving three out to look at later.

He peeked into the lab, but the three of them had their heads together, arguing about the ratio of something.

It was well past time to eat, so he made his way to the kitchen. It didn't take much to start a hearty stew. It might not be as good as Perenelle's but he was a fast learner and he'd watched her carefully.

The bubbling, steaming water soothed his nerves as he kept turning the invulnerability problem over and over in his mind. He picked up an oven mitt to adjust the pot, and then cursed his muggle raising under his breath as he used a simple anti-burn charm instead.

A charm. That siphoned heat away from the skin so the user wouldn't be burned. It wasn't a difficult spell, though it was probably not something taught before fourth year. The upper years cast it in potions when they were working on something that might splatter. He and Hermione had heard about it and mastered it in second year.

They'd even discussed the theory behind it.

It was all about directing energy.

Heat was energy.

Magic was energy.

Wizards thought of magic as a sentient entity. He hadn't seen any proof of that. Accidental magic was channeled through a being with a brain that acted on subconscious levels all the time. Wands…well, wands obviously were sentient, at least on some level. He ran his fingers over his own yew wand.

If a magical core could channel magic, could one be used to channel magic way from the wearer? Would the hairs of a Nemean Lion work as well as the hide? Could one hair be multiplied and spun into thread, and later cloth? Dragonhide had some wonderful properties…

His fingers were not idle while he was lost in thought. He used his wand to slice and chop.

He summoned a few sheets of parchment and a quill and began making notes while he cooked.

The stew was done and Tom was on his second bowl when the three wearily wandered into the kitchen. Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of the food.

He smirked at her. "We did agree that I would cook and you would clean up. I'm not doing the dishes." She flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek in the most satisfying way imaginable, while Nicholas and Perenelle patted his back as they hurried for their bowls.

"Thank you Tom. This is lovely."

He moved his parchment out of the way as they slid into their places at the table.

Hermione noticed of course. "What have you been working on?"

Tom kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it tonight. It's just the beginning of an idea. I'll tell you about it once I flesh it out a bit."

She opened her mouth and he kissed her bottom lip, causing her to close her mouth a bit so it wasn't awkward. Effective. Enjoyable. He would have to remember that trick when dealing with her.

Nicholas smirked and tried to hide it by taking a large bite of stew, an action that fooled no one.

"You have enough on your plate right now Hermione. Finish curing Dragonpox. I'll tell you about this as a treat once you are done." He might be holding out on her, just a bit, since she hadn't included him in her own research…did he feel resentful? Perhaps, just a tiny bit. No matter what else happened, he jealously guarded every second of her time. Sharing her so much with the Flamels ran counter to his nature.

He didn't show it though.

"Perenelle, I need to visit Mr. Olivander before school…do you think I can floo Professor Dumbledore and see if he will have time to accompany me?"

 **TMRTMRTMRTMR**

Albus was not accustomed to Tom asking for his help on any matter. Requests almost always came through Hermione. So when Nicholas asked if Albus would accompany Tom to Diagon Alley to visit Olivander, he agreed quickly.

Hermione greeted him as he floo'd into the cottage. "Are you planning to accompany us today Hermione?"

She'd looked thoughtful, but she shook her head. "I can't. We're close to a cure for Dragonpox and the testing is at a delicate stage." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Albus patted her shoulder. She was so small and delicate, one of the shortest of the incoming fourth year students, but you forgot that when you weren't standing next to her. There was a large spirit in those bird-like bones. "I'll take good care of him, never fear."

She smiled up at him, but there was something unconvinced in her eyes.

Tom walked into the room and she reached up and kissed his cheek. "Take care."

He kissed her mouth, uncaring that his Transfiguration professor was watching. "Have fun finishing your experiments."

It was an odd interaction, as if they were out of sync. Highly unusual.

He and Tom made their way to Ollivander's with no trouble at all. Albus had assumed that there was an issue with the boy's wand…

Mr. Olivander was pleased to see them when they came in, and even more pleased when Tom began asking his opinion on directing magical energy and the reason for the intelligence of wands.

"You see Mr. Riddle, it is the combination of the powerful core with the channeling agent, in this case the wand-quality wood for various trees, that allows a wand to develop its own personality and intelligence. The constant flow of magic from the user, direct contact with their mind as they control spells, it all works as a classroom for the young wand."

"That's why you said Hermione's wand was unusual for a young witch."

"Yes. Because it has passed through many witches and gained power and knowledge from them all, it is a very powerful instrument."

"And yet it is a wand geared toward protective enchantments."

"The wand chooses the witch or wizard Mr. Riddle. It is sometimes difficult to understand why. Many wands seem to search for their mate: a witch or wizard who can use their power to the highest potential. Other wands choose based on courage, or intelligence. Or occasionally a certain moral flexibility. The wand and wizard generally grow together. In your friend's case, the wand is more mature than she is, but perhaps it sensed in her something that could use that kind of base."

"She is a very mature child." Albus left it at that. No need to add what else she was.

"She's a powerful protector. That's why the wand chose her." Tom's voice was certain, and it brooked no argument, even in a room with a noted wand expert and one of the most talented wizards of an age.

Albus nodded to himself. Hermione did seem to be rather geared toward protecting others. Perhaps due to whatever had happened to her in her early life. One day, he would ask her for the full story.

Tom was drawing something. "I want to know if you think that this will work sir. Your opinion would be invaluable."

Albus glanced over the boy's shoulder and nearly gasped.

He had complicated calculations (perhaps not elegant, but they certainly got the job done) that showed the degeneration of spells as they moved further from the source. There were a few comments about mechanisms to focus the power as asides (interesting) but most of the paper was filled with a theory on how to diffuse the magic once it reached the target…in effect, a permanent shield cast on an object that was already resistant to magic, like dragonhide.

It wasn't that the idea hadn't been bandied about from time to time. The main problem was that the shield charms were inevitably overpowered.

"You've added a grounding system."

Tom nodded at Albus' incredulous observation. "The issue is that a spell hits like the tip of a sword, with all the force in a very small area. By using materials in the boots to ground the magic, the force effectively goes from being the tip of the sword to striking a huge area, the earth itself. It's not perfect, and strong spells might still physically move her…I mean whoever is wearing the garment…" His slight blush left little doubt about who was going to wear this bit of magical armor.

Olivander was ecstatic. "Exactly so young man. Brilliant. Now for the materials, you are correct, wand quality cores will work, as will hairs from a number of magical creatures. I suggest using a variety of them in a woven pattern for extra strength, and perhaps a dragon skin lining."

Tom's eyes lit up. "Do you think cooling charms will spoil the efficiency?"

"I have a temperature regulation charm I invented myself that can be woven into the cloth." Albus found himself volunteering one of his own charms before he even thought about it.

Tom nodded and got up to leave. "Thank you both. I have a lot of work to do, but I think this will work."

Olivander looked stricken. "Oh no! You simply must work on this here young man. I insist. It will be fascinating to watch it come together, and I can help you gather all of the cores you'll need. Thestrial and Unicorn tail hair will be simple, but some of the others will take a delicate hand."

Albus was startled. Olivander was not known as a generous man. He was kind enough, and he never cheated anyone, but he never did anything without reason. His pale blue eyes met Albus'.

"This is going to be the most important advancement in wandmaking since the founders. I simply must be involved Dumbledore. Surely, you, of all people can see that." His voice was strained and filled with a particular sort of greed Albus knew well.

Ravenclaws. They loved knowledge far better than gold.

He nodded. "You must understand, I can't allow Tom to be here alone. He is the object of a great deal of interest."

Olivander nodded. "I can see why. I assume you will want to be present Albus?"

"I really must insist." He might have been a Gryffindor himself, but he wasn't immune to the sort of intellectual greed that Ravenclaws were prone to.

 **HGHGHG**

She was nervous about Tom being away in the company of Albus. Things were still uncomfortable between herself and the Transfiguration professor, like a river after a bad storm with muddy waters and churning eddies that were not present before. She felt that they would smooth out in time, if they were given the chance…

In the meantime, the vaccine for Dragon pox was complete.

She surveyed the rows of neat bottles. Nicholas was humming as they packed off the first batch to St. Mungo's.

She picked up one stopped dose and slid it into a parchment envelope with a short note. This wasn't lost on Perenelle.

"So, I noted that the first dose of this vaccine that you worked like a demon to produce is being sent to the young Malfoy heir…the recently married Malfoy heir whose wife is expecting their first child soon."

Hermione nodded as she tied it to the Flamel's owl. "Abraxas is a good friend, and a good man. If we make certain he survives we will be that much closer to a better world. I don't want his son to grow up without his guidance."

Perenelle raised a brow. "How do you know it will be a son?"

Hermione smiled. "There isn't a spell to determine the sex of the baby?"

Perenelle shook her head. "Not that I know of."

Hermione shrugged. _Blast. Always making mistakes. This entire seer thing was more trouble than it was worth._ "All the Malfoys are male. Abraxas told me there was a curse."

Perenelle sighed and pressed on. "Do you love him?"

Hermione jerked away. "I…he is my friend. Do I Iove him? Well, yes…" She laughed a little. "But ask me if you I love you and Albus, and Nicholas and the answer would be the same. I am not going to try to categorize love. It's entirely too varied to force into neat little boxes so it's easier to file."

Perenelle cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "I have lived a very long time Hermione, but never have I met anyone like you."

She reached up on her toes and kissed the older woman's soft cheek. "I have to say the same thing to you my friend. You are entirely unique. My life would be far less enjoyable without your mind and talents in it."

Perenelle laughed. "Yes, it would have taken you weeks longer to cure dragonpox." She sobered once again. "Perhaps months. But at your age… Truly, this is a major accomplishment. Neither Nicholas nor I feel right about taking credit…"

Hermione held up a hand. "I don't want or need the credit, not now. Not with Grindelwald hovering. After Hogwarts Nicholas can reveal it if he likes. For now, the small profit from it will allow Tom and I to stop taking the stipend from Hogwarts and to have a bit more leeway during the year for supplies. That's more than enough when you realize that it will also keep those dear to me from dying."

Perenelle nodded. "Which brings me back to my original question love. I've met Abraxas Malfoy. He's beautiful and charming."

"He is. But he's also vain, manipulative, and entitled. And married. But I love him anyway. Not in the way I love Tom, though. Tom…"

Perenelle finished for her. "Tom is special."

Tom chose that moment to walk in with a bemused Albus trailing behind him.

He wrapped his arms around her and she felt like things were sliding into place again, like all was right with the world.

Albus still looked like he might be sick when he thought about her spying, but there was something else in his eyes.

He cornered her after dinner while Nicholas and Perenelle tried to get Tom to reveal what he was working on.

"I finally realized something." His voice was soft. She looked at him; his blue eyes were boring into her.

"What is that?"

"Tom is your King Arthur. In this story I suppose you must be Merlin."

She shrugged. "I promise, I never thought of it that way. But Tom is important, and it's my job to guide him."

"Who gave you that job?"

She smirked. "I did. I decided he needed me."

"He's very lucky to have met you when he did then."

She shrugged as he teased Nicholas by holding the wine bottle over the other man's head, laughing like any normal young man as he did, and then carefully giving the older man his bottle with a little bow.

"I think he would be great no matter what path he took…he has too much potential to be anything else. But I don't believe in luck. I believe he and I were fated to meet." That was as close as she could get to giving him a hint about her true nature.

Albus leaned back into the chair and sipped his glass of wine as Tom flung himself into the chair beside Hermione. He managed to move her completely to one side and reposition her on his lap. Perenelle rolled her eyes, but no one even chided them at this point.

Hermione kissed his smooth, white brow as she played with his curls. Albus moved away and began a long rambling discussion with Nicholas about gorgan blood.

He whispered in her ear. "Let's go."

And she nodded.

They left the 'adults' to argue about the alchemical ratio of blood to acid.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Tom didn't wait until they reached her room to begin a slow kiss that left both of them breathless. She reacted, but he could sense her control under the surface, and part of him wanted to make that crumble.

Ah well…that was for another night.

It was good that one of them could keep their senses because he was constantly on the verge of losing himself in the haze of sweet pleasure as he explored those bits of skin which she allowed him access to. It wasn't as much as he wanted, but it was enough. Just the skin on her neck was enough to drive him mad. Soft, sweetly scented, kissable, and sensitive.

He loved the little gasps of pleasure he could wring from her with just his lips and his teeth on her neck.

She gave as well as she got. He liked that about her. She didn't allow them to get carried away (much) but their exploration was not timid.

The best part was feeling all those parts of their bodies that were beneath clothing. He loved it.

He wanted more.

He held himself in check with a will of iron though. There would be a time and a place for more. He would see to that. But here was not it, nor was it the time. She would be fifteen in less than a month. He wouldn't turn fifteen until New Year's Eve.

Still, her willing kisses and wicked mouth made him shudder with delight. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly that he was afraid he might crush her; but she was stronger than that. He knew she was.

He knew that his intensity was too much for most people. Even without magic he frightened them. But she…she never made him feel like he was too much or not enough. As they panted slightly from ardor that they could not consummate, he nuzzled her cheek and placed a soft, gentle kiss on the skin.

"I love you."

She didn't hesitate. "I love you too Tom."

He closed his eyes and basked in the knowledge that she really did.

And he tried to keep the fear of losing her at bay.

It wasn't hard, with the scent of her hair in his nose and her sleeping body in his arms to push away the fear.


	38. Chapter 38

_**AN: I know this is a bit late, but this was a bit longer too! Hope all of you enjoy!**_

Boarding the train without Abraxas made Hermione feel like she was missing an eye. She reflected that she'd probably spent too much of her life surrounded by boys: at least the best parts of her life. When Ron died, Neville had replaced him. When Harry passed, Neville was there…

She shook off the old memories. They snuck up on her sometimes, but it was easier and easier to call this time 'her time'.

Which perhaps made it more peculiar that the Hogwarts Express didn't feel 'normal' without Abraxas.

Being the reigning Slytherin Queen was certainly a departure from anything she'd known in her former life.

Their carriage contained Minerva and Hagrid, but it also contained Odin Nott, both the Rossier brothers, and a bevy of people from other houses who flitted in and out to pay their respects. Even Abraxas' carriage had been quieter…of course, they'd only joined him long after he was confirmed as Slytherin Prince.

Almost all of the Knights managed to find their way to them. Hermione appeared to accept this as her due, but internally she wondered why Slytherin house seemed to garner the most respect.

"We're the most powerful members." Tom's voice was low but perfectly audible in her ear as the others laughed at something Avery had done over the break. "That's why the other knights are coming here. The only thing they respect is power and connections."

She smiled and put her head on his shoulder so she could whisper. "So power and more power."

He grinned and kissed her temple. He didn't say anything further because there was no need, nor did she ask how he knew what she was thinking. She tried not to ask stupid questions around him. It messed with the edge she'd gained. And she needed that edge. Tom was brilliant.

The two of them were prefects so they had to spend at least part of their time canvassing the train. It gave them the opportunity to scope out the new students and speak with others who weren't as savvy as Slytherins and the knights.

It also gave Tom ample opportunity to pull her into an empty carriage and snog the living daylights out of her.

He really was relentless. And very, very good at whatever he set his mind to. Merlin.

She couldn't remember if Ron had ever made her feel this rush of adolescent hormones. She rather suspected that the constant danger they were all in might have left them all with slight adrenal strain for years after the war.

As it was, her foggy memory was blurred by time and she remembered her husband with a detached kind of affection. Her love for both boys in her youth seemed sharper than the whole rest of her life. She supposed that the light side might have distorted her memory when they sent her back. It wouldn't do her much good to morn for her old life. She couldn't help but wonder though…who would take Hermione Granger's place? What soul would go to school with Ron and Harry…grow up, marry, bear two children, free the elves, and teach magical legal studies for forty years after her first retirement? Or would they wipe her memory and send her back in to her old life if she died before she was born? It was all a bit overwhelming, even for her.

She kept her shields tight as she pondered her life, and they watched the Hogwarts station appear and helped the first years off the train. A quick ride up the road (both she and Tom could see Thestrals) and they were home.

Hogwarts would always be home to her. Girl or woman, student or teacher; those stone halls had sheltered her for more years that most.

The sorting was accomplished in due time, and feast was fabulous. Hermione made a mental note to sneak into the kitchens just to tell the elves so. Tom was showing his appreciation in a different way. Though his manners were neat as always, a prodigious amount of food was disappearing from his plate. She almost thought he was vanishing it, but it was all going into his mouth. She supposed he might be growing again. She found it a bit annoying. He was already eight inches taller than her. If he grew much more she'd need a step ladder to kiss him.

She missed him that night as she settled into her feather bed with the Goyle twins snores echoing around her.

She pulled her curtains tight and hit them with a silencing charm. Part of her was grateful for the space. She knew well enough where their relationship was heading, and she needed to slow it down.

But she missed him terribly.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Classes were always anticlimactic the first few days. He was always so excited to get back and then they didn't learn anything worth knowing the first week.

Tom considered his side project as he pretended to take notes about a rune he and Hermione had been using for years.

He and Ollivander had made several trips from his shop collecting cores. Merpeople scales, vela hair, dragon heartstring. Unicorn hair by the ream. And all of it was being woven into a tight cloak. Tom had learned the enchantments on plain thread, but he'd picked it up quickly. Ollivander was already treating him like an apprentice…which wasn't a bad thing after all. Wandlore was mostly passed down through families and it was a branch that blended the practical and theoretical elements of magic in a way that was far more interesting that most branches.

He hadn't told Hermione what he was up to yet. She didn't press, but he could sense her curiosity. "You always make a big production over my birthday, we've never done anything for yours'. Just wait a few weeks." He kept his tone lightly persuasive, and she nodded. He knew that she didn't consider her birthday at all, and for some reason that irritated him.

 _More proof that she doesn't treat herself with enough care. If I hadn't been there when she was sorted I'd think she was a Griffindore or a Hufflepuff._

It merely showed that his idea was a good one; and as much as he would have preferred to have her alone and all to himself, he quietly began inviting her favorite people (after obtaining permission from Professor Dippet and enlisting Slughorn's help for the venue…he couldn't very well drag them all to the Room of Requirement and expect it to stay a secret).

The house elves were happy to teach him the secrets of making cakes, they really were accommodating little creatures. Professor Flitwick (who had been tapped by Slughorn to help with decorations) was at least as excited as Tom, perhaps more so. Tom frowned. Flitwick was far too young and a bit too dashing to be that happy about anything to do with Hermione.

Still, if the girl hadn't fallen for Abraxas, Tom supposed she'd be well enough around Flitwick…though Hermione was one of the few people in the school who didn't tower over the tiny man.

He wasn't going to give her his special gift in front of everyone: that wouldn't do. Instead, he took a number of sickles and transfigured them into a silver necklace. The pattern implied scales. With a bit more thought, he added a snake's head, so that the clasp was in the front and the entire thing was a snake swallowing its own tail. An eternity circle. It was fitting in every way.

He finished by adding charms that would cause the snake to attack anyone that meant her real harm. It could fly off her neck for several feet and strike.

He wanted to use real snake venom, but the snakes near Hogwarts were mostly benign sorts in the greenhouses. He hissed out a call for venomous specimens but nothing came. He thought he might have heard something…something that was hibernating at the moment. He was curious, but didn't have time to investigate.

In the end, he used acromantula venom nicked from the potions lab in the necklace. He wouldn't be describing the safety features of it in front of anyone. They would simply see the symbol of Slytherin House in a necklace that moved around a bit. Exceptional work for a fourth year, but nothing that hadn't been done in the wizarding world. He would discuss the other features with Hermione after the party, when he gave her the silvery cloak as well.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Deep within Hogwarts, she stirred. She thought she heard…but then it stopped. And the voice hadn't said the passcode. She remembered the passcode. Salazar had trained her for years before putting her in the magical hibernation below the school.

Still, she was not as deeply asleep as she had been. Perhaps the time that Salazar had spoken of was coming. He vowed that if the dirty ones ever brought muggles into the castle to attack, that she would be there to defend his students. She would know them by the snake emblem on their clothing. Anyone else might be an enemy.

She rearranged her coils. The basilisk closed her eyes once more and returned to her dreams: rodents the size of horses and tunnels to glade through where her size wouldn't restrict her…

But part of her mind listened for that call. The words that would open the chamber and set her free.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Odin Nott wasn't a bad sort: a bit clumsy on the ground, weedy, needed an eyesight potion instead of those goggle-like glasses he wore. He was also a decent seeker.

Tom clapped his hands as the team flew drills. "That's enough for today. Practice tomorrow at five. Go back to the common room and finish your homework, but make sure to work in an early night"

Slughorn had made Tom the youngest Quidditch captain in the century and he ruled his team with an iron fist. Abraxas was constantly sending owls with equipment and notes from his own two year stint as captain, as well as personality profiles and detailed genealogies for everyone who might play. It wasn't cheating…it was research.

Nott landed gracefully and tripped once he was on the ground. Tom rolled his eyes a little but he helped him up.

"Thanks Tom."

Tom nodded.

"I was wondering, do you have time to help with my Transfiguration work?"

Tom was generally available, but he cursed internally. He needed to spend the evening working on his occlumency shields. He sighed. "We can study together I suppose. I can help you in between working on my project."

They walked off to find Hermione, who had a mixed group of first years in the library, hanging on her every word as she explained the goblin rebellion far better than Professor Binns had ever dreamed of doing.

Tom placed a kiss on her cheek as he walked up to her. Several of the little first year boys looked suitably crestfallen. A few of the girls did as well, but that was little matter.

"Did your practice go well?"

He smiled. "Well enough. Did you eat dinner?"

"Yes, and I saved you a plate under a warming charm. It's in the common room." And warded like it was made of goblin forged gold, no doubt. She guarded him like he was made of glass most of the time.

"I could have gotten something. You didn't have to do that." She just shook her head and he kissed her again. And this one was a bit more intimate, despite being on her soft cheek. It was all in the way he pulled her into his arms and wrapped himself around her. "Odin and I are going to the old charms room on the sixth floor to study. Meet us there once you finish?"

She smiled and nodded. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back as he and Theo walked away.

Occlumancy was simple enough. Build a wall, keep it up. No problem. It was much more difficult to build a subconscious mental picture show going all the time, pulling from real incidents and feelings, without telling the seeker what they truly wanted to know _while_ making the whole thing look like completely random images. To be perfectly honest, he was a bit awful at it. He tended to overpower the images and they stuck out like a sore thumb. Of course, most wizards couldn't do it at all and he was only a few months into training, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it needed to be done and e was _failing_ at it. Which was completely unacceptable.

He allowed his 'charming' self to help Odin with his transfiguration while he pulled out more memories that he didn't want Grindlewald to see. Images of Hermione mostly. Not just the moments that he didn't want another man to see, but moments when she seemed to shine with happiness, when she laughed about something he said. The first time he'd really kissed her and all the tumbling, confusing feelings it had invoked.

He took those memories and wrapped them in memories of him scrubbing the toilet in the boy's lavatory in the orphanage. It wasn't a pretty memory but it wasn't anything interesting. He'd been forced to go through with the chore because he'd frightened some of the other children. He had a million resentful memories just like it. Memories from before she came. One would have to watch the memory over and over until they found the seam where he'd hidden the scenes with Hermione. He had catches of memories hidden like this all over his mind now. He made certain to hide the ones involving Grindlewald behind the ones of Hermione that he didn't want seen. Because as much as he didn't want anyone to see that first kiss…or worse, the first time he'd accidentally brushed her breast and realized what he was touching…he wanted to protect her more.

He pretended to read and take notes while he was answering Odin's occasional questions and practicing occlumency.

Body armor was a step in the right direction, but it did little to negate the real problem. They were vulnerable.

The idea of the horocrux teased him. Of course, putting a precious shard of one's soul in any old object wouldn't do…and Hermione wouldn't commit murder. But what if he used a death in battle? Surely there would be a few if they didn't stop Grindelwald soon. He didn't doubt she'd kill to save him, but killing that way probably wouldn't be enough to detach the bit of the soul that one would need…

Just because no one had done it didn't mean it couldn't be done. He made a note to look up old binding ceremonies as well. Some of them invoked soul bonds. Perhaps one couldn't rip the soul without murder, but if one made a fair exchange? Would it work? Probably not as the spell was written, since there weren't a bevy of immortal couples wandering around, but it was a good place to begin. Tying her so tightly to him, entwining their very souls, was appealing.

"Are you feeling well Tom?"

He realized his face was probably a bit flushed from excitement and he was sweating from his occlumency exercise.

Hermione chose that moment to enter the classroom. He smiled up at her. "Perfect." The word fell from his lips without his permission, but he cleared his throat and covered his gaff. No need to act like a complete moon calf about her, even if he felt that way on occasion. "I'm absolutely perfect."

She laughed and plunked her school books down beside him. "Yes. You are." She kissed his brown and he knew that she noticed the hint of tell-tale sweat on it. She knew what he'd been practicing. She cupped his face for a long moment and he was certain he saw a moment of remorse in her eyes….sadness he wouldn't allow to remain.

So despite their audience, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert didn't trust any of his lackeys for this – on the one hand it was too simple and the drones would get sloppy and screw it all to Hades. On the other hand, it was so simple that if he sent in one of the people he actually trusted, they might get greedy and then he'd be forced to hunt them down and kill them…slowly. Which would be a waste of a decent witch or wizard and tedious to boot.

Perhaps in time he would have a few truly trustworthy allies. Albus for one…how he missed the man! Not just in his bed, though that had been memorable…it had been the first time he'd fallen in love, and the last time he'd allowed it to affect the…end of the relationship. But even better than the sex was the meeting of the minds; the free give and take of ideas that built like an inferno.

He was brilliant by himself of course. But he missed how easy it had been to plot with Albus by his side.

He shook his head as he finished his woolgathering and dropped a single hair into a goblet of polyjuice. Inspecting his 'face-shaped face' he straitened his robes, picked up an expensive attaché case, and apperated to Azkaban…by appointment of course.

"Herr Frederick Oppenheimer to see Morphin Gaunt."

The guard scowled at him, and looked at his documents carefully, even checking them for magical signatures which left him vaguely impressed. If his papers had been faked she would have surely caught him. Luckily, the papers really did belong to Herr Oppenheimer, a renowned lawyer from Germany who often did pro bono work in Azkaban. Herr Oppenheimer was unfortunately quite dead, but that didn't matter as far as the papers were concerned.

The guard ended her scrutiny with a self-made spell that verified the identity matched the bearer, not relying on the mere photograph.

Bright girl. He made a mental note.

He had to leave his wand in a special case that would only open with his magical signature, but he was allowed to keep his attaché case. Her spells revealed nothing particularly dangerous about the papers contained within.

Well, even the best spells were imperfect. Still, it was quite conscientious of her. He approved.

Azkaban was filthy and freezing. He kept his face blank of course, but internally he scoffed a bit. His own prison was not a place to send his people off to die (and help them along a bit with exposure and neglect). His prison was about re-educating dissidents so they could become proper citizens…beginning with an obligatory stint in his army. All of these powerful witches and wizards…the kind who could think outside the strictures of society, were being kept here…all in one place. It was heartbreaking. He barely contained his glee. It would be quite fun to break them out and set them on their own populace just as he invaded. True, most of them would die as his own forces restored order, but that would only make the population view his men as saviors.

He tucked the plan away as he traveled the halls behind the little witch. She was quite fit with her rounded bum in dueling robes. Perhaps later he could mix business with pleasure…after he had the ring of course.

They approached Morphin Gaunt's cell. Geller did not wrinkle his nose as the smell.

As his eyes penetrated the deep shadows, he saw a money-faced man with a beard that was mostly grey under the dirt…hair that was mostly black under the dust. The stench was worse inside. Most of it was probably coming from the man's mouth.

He made another mental note to issue toothbrushes to all inmates immediately.

"Herr Gaunt, I am your new lawyer. I have been working on re-opening your case files." In reality, one of his contacts had obtained the original case files. It was good enough so that it would pass casual inspection, and that was all he needed.

"I think we can claim self-defense against the Muggles." He handed the man the papers as he sat crouched in a nest of thin blankets.

The guard nodded to herself. "You can have ten minutes to communicate in private, per Azkaban regulations."

"Thank you, guard….?"

Her chin tilted. "Westwood."

He didn't know the name, but she seemed to expect him to. "Thank you Guard Westwood. The privacy is not strictly required, but might be welcome." All very true.

She locked the door and he turned his eyes back to the dirty little man. Gaunt apparently could not read, either because he had never learned or because he was going blind.

Gaunt tried to shove the papers back at Gellert, but he simply backed away with a click of his shiny shoes on the floor. Gaunt held on to the papers.

"S'no use." The man half-hissed his words. "I killed 'em. Even the Muggle bint that was his mum. The only one left is the boy that looks like the muggle, the one who told me m'sister was dead. Her son I think."

An heir? Inconvenient. But only if the stone would not work for him.

Gellert looked down and saw the glint of gold on the man's hand. The ring was filthy, much like its owner, but the mark the Pervell brothers had used was scratched on the top, as clear as day. The gold surrounding it was several hundred years older than the stone. Goblin-made unless his eye was completely out.

Morphin had curled back up in a pathetic ball. "The boy spake it. Did, din'd he? But them me mind fogged and I stuck him. Bled. And the Ministry came. I knowed then that they'd be comin' and that that muggle had done somethin' to m'sister. I hid. Then I killed 'em all."

Gellert sighed. A serpent speaker, and he wouldn't even get the opportunity to study him! He wondered if this pathetic specimen was as powerful as Herpo had been…he certainly didn't seem to have the strength of Salazar. Probably best to leave him to his fate and find out of the boy survived.

Gaunt made a choking noise, and Gellert reached down to check his watch. The contact poison on the papers was almost done. It would seem as if the man was dying from an extreme respiratory infection.

"Guard!" He reached down and took the ring from the man's hand, his calm action belying the panic in his voice. "Guard Westwood! Help please!"

Gaunt was coughing now. Gellert pulled out a white handkerchief and removed the thin layer of potion on his hands that had protected him from the poison. Then he wandlessly burned the handkerchief.

The guard burst in, doing diagnostic spells as she berated him. Geller used her distraction to slip the ring into his pocket, which was lined in moke skin. Only he could remove the ring.

Morphin Gaunt managed to survive longer than Gellert expected (perhaps the layer of dirt protected him from the full effects of the poison for a time). Still, within ten minutes the man was dead.

Guard Westwood turned to him with murder in her eyes. "What did you do? I could smell something burning when I came in."

Very bright girl. Letting her go would be a waste. "I wandlessly burned the handkerchief I loaned him. I was afraid it might have his infection."

"You are under arrest."

His tone changed as he caught the woman in his arms and wandlessly bound her. "I rather think not my dear." He ran a finger down her cheek. "I think we should discuss an employment opportunity instead."


	39. Chapter 39

_**AN: I am so sorry about the delay. This chapter simply didn't want to come and it's been an awful week…I didn't have the time or focus to really write. The words finally, finally started flowing last night about nine, so I haven't had as much time to copyedit as I normally do either. Please forgive any typos. Hopefully I caught the logic errors. Here's hoping everyone has a better week!**_

When Hermione looked back and thought about it, there were signs that a surprise party might be in the works. But it wasn't until a whispered bit of conversation on her birthday itself that the pieces fell into place. Two Hufflepuff girls were gushing in the lady's room as they powdered their noses between class.

"I heard Abraxas Malfoy and his mother are in the headmaster's office."

"Do you think he'll come back and teach?"

"I wish. And I wish he'd leave off his robes and just wander around in his Quidditch uniform."

"Or just the pants…"

Much giggling followed. She had to work very hard to keep from hexing the girls. Honestly. Wasn't there anyone in the wizarding world that didn't want to get the blond into bed? Besides his wife of course…poor 'Brax. At least he was protected from the dragonpox now, though something would have to be done about Helga. Perhaps she should brew a few does of verataserium just to be safe.

But why would Abraxas be in the school at all?

And then all the little sidelong glances that Slughorn had been giving her and a few excited comments from Flitwick slid into place.

Tom. He's done something incredibly sweet. She thought it was odd that he was making such a fuss over her birthday. He's nearly surprised her this time. And aside from the fact that she wasn't particularly fond of being the center of attention at these things, it also pointed out the obvious.

She really needed to do something about her reputation as a seer. If people kept surprising her someone was going to figure out that everything was not as it seemed.

Tom led her to Slughorn's office that evening with a paper-thin excuse. He obviously knew that she knew, but he was practically vibrating with excitement.

She managed to 'act' surprised so that the right people would realize it was an act.

Not all her surprise was feigned. The office was decorated beautifully in floating lengths of silver and green silk (no doubt transfigured).

She looked around and was touched by the people who came (Tom only invited people who meant something to her). And more than that, she was pleased that he had taken the time and effort to do all this for her.

There were gifts aplenty: Flitwick charmed a diary that would expand and organize itself for her OWL and NEWT notes. The little man blushed furiously when she hugged him. Dippet had not chosen to attend the gathering, but he sent Hermione a set of self-inking quills. (He'd invented the charm himself along with a number of other timesaving spells…the man was really quite clever about getting out of work.).

Helena brought a lovely set of robes in pale green. The Flamels brought her a golden cauldron for tricky brewing and a set of solid gold stirring rods. "Oh that's too much Perenelle!"

"Don't be silly love!" She pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, "You know I know how to turn iron to gold!" Hermione kissed the woman's cheek.

Abraxas handed her a small, scruffy-looking diary. "I have the other. This way you can write me directly if you ever need help. They heat up when a new message comes through." He handed another to Tom. "It's a set of three." Tom shook the blond man's hand.

Albus brought her a new wand holster. "Mokeskin. Only you can remove you wand from it once it's in the holster. It's also spelled to stay on your arm unless you use a spell to remove it. This way you'll always be armed."

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you Albus."

Minerva brought her a package of her mother's shortbread cookies. Hagrid brought her a little basket of potions ingredients. "Gathered them meself." If a few of them were things he could have only have gotten in the Forbidden Forrest, none of the Professors mentioned it. And the little phial of Unicorn breath would be invaluable. Hermione hugged the large boy tightly. "Thank you both!"

Tom was last. He was holding a small box that she was certain he'd transfigured from parchment. They'd figured out that trick first year when they needed to give gifts. He blushed a bit when the adults all quieted when the necklace crawled up her arm and settled itself around her neck.

"Blimey." Hagrid was looking at Tom like he'd never seen him before.

Slughorn grinned like a loon. "Impressive bit of magic my boy."

Albus couldn't keep a proud smile off of his face. "Indeed. I'd say that is NEWT level charms and transfiguration."

She pulled out her wand and conjured a mirror. "It's beautiful." The snake's tail was in its mouth and the lids blinked every few moments as it scanned the room. She could feel the deeper magic inside it. She banished the mirror and kissed his cheek. She felt the blood rush to his face, thrumming under the skin exactly where her lips touched.

"I love it." They held hands for a moment and ignored the room, until Slughorn cleared his throat loudly. Hermione felt herself blushing like some silly school girl. Which technically, she supposed she was, but still…

That was hardly the end of the party. There was still cake to be eaten, and the fact that Tom had baked it himself was as at least as impressive as the necklace. "That's delicious Tom. I may have to learn how to cook."

Slughorn chuckled as he devoured his fifth piece. "The boy does a little bit of everything at a high level. Be sure to hang onto him Miss Granger. You won't see another like him in this century."

She laughed. "Not this one or any other." Tom kissed her hand, but she could tell he was overwhelmed by the praise. He was quite used to being exceptional in magic; it was another matter entirely to be excellent at other things.

She sat, quietly, as the evening progressed. It was nearly perfect. She wanted to remember this moment. If she lived another thousand years she wasn't certain she could equal it. Tom was arguing with Nicholas about the use of beazors in antidotes. Albus and Perenelle were discussing transfiguration with a pink-cheeked Minerva. Slughorn was beside Nicholas sampling a six hundred year old burgundy. Flitwick was talking with Helena Malfoy and Abraxas was transfiguring something non-alcoholic for his wife, who looked like she'd sucked on a lemon.

Hermione caught Tom's eye and he eased out of the conversation and joined her. "I want you to read Helga's mind while I bring up her brother…look for anything deliberate that led to his death."

Tom nodded and put on his most charming smile. The fact that other people never saw through that thing shocked her. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

They joined the other couple just as they finished some kind of whispered argument. Hermione gave the blond woman a small smile. She wasn't as charming as Tom and she knew it. But then, with Tom at her side she didn't really have to be charming, did she?

"Abraxas! Thank you both for coming!" He smiled down at her and kissed her cheek with more gentleness than he ever showed his wife. "It's a pleasure to be here Hermione." She leaned her head on his chest as he hugged her to him. Tom stepped in and took Helga's hand and kissed it formally. "We are please that both of you could make it. How is the young one?" Tom's eyes flicked to her thin frame where an ever-so-slight bulge could be seen.

Helga flushed. "He is growing well."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "You are certain the child will be a boy?"

Hermione and Abraxas answered together. "Lucius."

The blond turned to her with a small half-smile. "How did you know that Hermione?"

She flushed and glared at her cup. Slughorn had spiked the damn punch. She was going to chop the man up and use him for potions ingredients. "I must have heard it somewhere."

Abraxas looked like he was going to let it go. Helga however sulked. "We only decided today."

Hermione sighed. "Perhaps Abraxas mentioned the name at some point last year."

Helga took a long drink of her prune juice to hide her expression. Abraxas had transfigured it from the wine. It said a lot about their relationship, actually.

She tried to change the subject. "I'm surprised that you didn't want to name him after another member of the family, like you father or your brother."

Helga flinched visibly, and then gave a brittle little laugh. "My father's name is Horatio. I wouldn't saddle the poor boy with that. My brother is dead." She could see Tom focusing on the woman's eyes, trying to maintain a connection.

"I understand. I would never name a child after my father either…he passed through the veil as well. How awful to call out the name of someone who is gone every day?" She tried to look sympathetic. There was a coldness about Helga that Hermione dreaded. This wouldn't turn out well…

Tom caught her eye. Hermione changed the subject to the décor for the nursery and they were able to slip away when Helena insisted that Helga should go home.

She caught Abraxas' hand. "Stay for a bit?"

He smiled down at her and Tom, but his face changed when he saw how grim they'd suddenly gotten. "Of course. Let me escort Mother and Helga to the floo. I will return in a few moments."

"Meet us in the common room instead. The password is Salazar."

Abraxas nodded with a pensive look on his face. Tom pulled Hermione into his arms and whispered, "Let's make our excuses. I think you already know what I found in her mind."

Hermione nodded. It took longer than she would have thought to say goodnight. Everyone wanted a word, and everyone wanted to kiss her cheek or take her hand.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

He wasn't looking forward to this.

Abraxas was already waiting when they came in.

The remaining Slytherins were vying for his attention like a litter of over-active puppies. It took nearly half an hour for the prefects to take charge enough to get the younger years out of the common room, and another hour after that for the older students gave them room enough to slip out.

Tom led them to an old potions room. "I would have told you to meet us here in the first place if I had any idea you were still so popular."

Abraxas gave them a lazy grin. "What can I say? It's a gift."

Hermione snorted as the pulled the stools closer and they shot a series of spells at the door to guarantee that they would not be disturbed.

"I'm going to assume that the two of you were up to something tonight with my annoying bride."

Tom nodded. "I'm a natural legilimens."

Abraxas frowned. "That's an unusual skill."

Tom nodded carefully. "Hermione asked me to look into Helga's mind. Normally, you can only read surface thoughts when you don't have a target. She gave me that target and then brought up the subject with your wife, which means the target will help you pull up the memories…most people don't even know I'm doing it."

Abraxas took a deep breath. "What did you ask Tom to find out?"

Hermione moved uncomfortably. "I wanted him to look into the death of Helga's brother."

Abraxas turned to Hermione with narrowed eyes. "Dragonpox…something that you coincidentally just cured."

Hermione looked a little worried. "You took the vaccine I sent, correct?"

"As soon as it arrived. I would like another for mother if it isn't too much to ask."

"I'll ask Nicholas to send it. He's brewing it all for St. Mungo's."

Abraxas turned to Tom. "So Hermione asked you to look into Helga's head. I suppose if it had been as empty as I have always suspected you wouldn't have found a need to speak with me privately."

Tom nodded. "Her mind is tangled. She's difficult to read, but I am quite certain she planned her brother's death carefully. He was threatening to expose her secret if she didn't wed one of his friends. It was a way for her brother, Paul, to control her once she wed. I saw no remorse in her mind. She feels like she was wronged by the brother and her actions were perfectly justifiable. My issue is that she seems to think the same about you. Once the child is born and healthy she will look for a way to be rid of you so she can live the way she prefers without any controls."

"I don't suppose I can blame her for wanted to run her own life."

Hermione's voice held a note of concern. "Except she has no thought for anyone else's. She'd kill you because it's a fool-proof solution and she doesn't care one way or another if you live or die. Given the chance she would do away with your mother as well, perhaps even before you die. You need to protect yourself and Helena."

Abraxas nodded. "I already have a certain number of protections in place. The child will be born in April. Until then there is little I can do."

Hermione stood up and began pacing. "I propose at least limiting her movement. She murdered her brother. Some might call it a form of self-defense, but it was still in cold blood. In a fair system, she would get some prison time and then perhaps parole if they thought she wasn't going to harm herself or anyone else. I don't see why you can't institute something like that without involving the courts. Merlin only knows how they'd botch it."

Abraxas nodded. "And the press would have a field day."

Tom grimaced. "They'd love nothing better."

"I think you should offer to send her to the island of Sappho in Greece once this is over."

Abraxas turned a bit red. "You mean that island where…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Where witches have formed an all female colony, yes. I think it might take away the impetus for her behavior."

"I can't imagine a mother leaving her child."

"If she wants to visit, international portkeys are fairly simple to arrange."

Abraxas looked pensive. Hermione and Tom looked at each other. Tom put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Hermione hugged him tightly. "You have our support. Whatever you decide. We just wanted to keep you safe."

Tom snorted. "She wanted to keep you safe. I want you to stop hugging my witch."

Abraxas lost that slightly shell-shocked look and smiled at them. "Thank you. I know that you saved my life with the vaccine, and now this…"

Hermione squeezed his arm lightly. "We just want you to be around to raise your son."

"I'm going t be pants at being a father."

"Nonsense. You are going to be a wonderful father. Your mother will help and Tom and I will be there. I can't wait for him to call me Aunt Hermione."

Tom snickered. "Where you planning to wait until he's twenty to hear him say it?"

Abraxas cocked his head to one side. "It is a bit of a mouthful. How about Aunt Hermy?"

She smiled sweetly and replied in her deadliest tone, "Not a chance Malfoy."

 **GGGGGG**

The stone glittered coldly on his palm. Gellert had removed it from the gold fitting. It blinked wickedly in the light and he felt, for the first time in a very long time, a slight tingle of fear.

He locked the stone in a small box on his desk.

His little seer would be by his side again in a matter of weeks. He smirked. A small parchment had been delivered to him under the name Grindle-Wobbly.

He would allow her the honor or using the stone first. That way, if it was simply the ring was just a clever trap it would capture her and not him. If on the other hand it was genuine, he would reward his little one with something special. She deserved a treat after all.


	40. Chapter 40

_**AN: This one is a bit short, but I had to cut the idea in half. We will pick up next time at the feast. I really like that Gellert has decided to be his own villain in this story…he's not nice but he's pretty entertaining, and whatever else he is, he is not Voldemort clone. Thank all of you for sticking with me!**_

Gellert looked forward to the first Hogsmead weekend of the Hogwarts year with a fever that surpassed even the most excitable third year on their first trip.

His men (even the unflappable Sergei) cringed as he bounced though the halls of his palace with a verve that was perhaps more unsettling than his anger. She was the key to all of it. He knew this, just as he had known the first time he read the story of the Deathly Hallows that the items contained in it would one day belong to him. He'd always felt the tug of destiny, even as a small child. The day to day tedium of running an empire had stolen a bit of his joy, but her appearance, and with her the continuation of his Hallows quest, had rejuvenated him.

He laughed with a scruffy barn owl arrived with a letter the twenty-second of September. Two runes were printed neatly on the front. The first was a Celtic rune for the monster 'Grindel' and the second was a Nordic rune that was often translated as 'unsteady'. Grindelwobby. He laughed as he opened it. He would punish her cheek…but gently. She was, after all, a unique, valuable resource…and more importantly, her cheeky moments amused him, which was worth more than rubies .

" _Dear Aunt,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. My fourth year of Hogwarts has been successful thus far. My friends are as pleasant as ever, and we've only grown closer despite our separation over the summer. Tom is, of course my best and dearest friend._

 _I continue to have my weekly teas with Professor Dumbledore. As you know, I've been encouraging him to reconcile with his brother, but they had an unfortunate falling out the other day. I hesitate to put it into a note, but if you would believe it, the other Mr. Dumbledore broke my professor's nose! And Professor Dumbledore just fixed it and said it wasn't the first time. They really are an odd family…thankfully he still has me._

 _On my birthday Tom planned a surprise party for me along with a number of my friends and teachers. I'm afraid I figured it out before the actual 'surprise' part, but it was still a lovely gesture. He made the cake himself!_

 _Our first Hogsmead weekend is on October 11_ _th_ _. I managed to draw a free weekend as prefect. Tom, on the other hand, has to patrol from ten until three. I will spend part of my day wandering the streets with him as he patrols, but I may do a bit of exploring myself. I hate leaving him behind whenever I do anything. I miss him terribly._

 _I almost forgot: I have been keeping an eye out for that ratty old cloak you mentioned. I haven't found it yet and I've searched through my entire truck. You'd think it was invisible! I know it has sentimental value to you, so I won't give up the search._

 _I must get back to my studies: Professor Merrythought assigned us thirty-six inches on the use of anti-jinxes and she gets very tetchy when my essays run longer. I still need to cut twenty-four inches to get down the thirty-six, so it will be a long night._

 _Hugs and kisses,_

 _Hermione_

Gellert laughed at the clever child. He supposed there might be someone that she actually might be writing to under the title of Aunt: the Flamel woman or the Malfoy matriarch. If the letter had been intercepted, it was perfectly innocuous. Even her pet name for him would make no sense to anyone who wasn't 'in' on the joke (especially since ancient runes weren't necessarily a first language to most of Wizarding Britain).

So she would come on the eleventh, but she would not be bringing Tom. She didn't fool him. She didn't trust him around her precious Tom. The boy was her Achilles' heel. How tidy that his little seer came with a neatly placed string on her heart he could so easily tug at. Almost too simple really. It made him wonder if she wasn't hiding something deeper.

He grinned.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione had grown used to the feeling of the silver snake moving restlessly when those around her thought unkind things. Tom assured her that it would only attack if they had deadly intent. The fact that he'd been able to imbue an object with this much sentience at nearly fifteen was impressively disturbing. The fact that he had no qualm about adding deadly venom to his snake worried her slightly. True, it was a powerful paralytic rather than a poison, but it could cause the smooth muscle to stop the heart or lungs in a high enough dose.

"If they try to kill you, I don't care if they die, as long as they are stopped before it happens."

It worried her when he made that statement.

It worried her that it pleased her.

Wasn't she supposed to teach him how to connect with people other than herself? She didn't have a good answer.

She was not used to the slight, nervous looks that he kept giving her as the date for the Hogsmead weekend approached. Despite her lovely new necklace and the amazing cloak he'd given her later, he was very unhappy with her going to Grindlewald alone.

"My shields are good enough. I should go with you."

She took a deep breath. He was right really. In a few short weeks he'd managed to master a mind magic that most wizards never even attempted. Oh Tom's style was still rough around the edges, but Gellert was hardly the mind reader that Voldemort was at the peak of his power.

But she couldn't let him come with her. Not this first time that was so much more likely to be a trap…never, if she were to any choice in it at all. She didn't want Tom to be in contact with Grindlewald. It held a special danger for him…the darkness surrounding him would almost guarantee that he would be drawn to Gellert.

"You are nearly ready. I will go the first time, and if I return to him, I will take you with me."

"If?"

"I won't spy if I think there is too much chance that you will be hurt." She took a deep breath. "I told you Tom. If I have to choose between other people and you, I will choose you."

He captured her lips then, despite the fact that they'd had this quiet conversation under silencing charms in the common room, despite the fact that the other Slytherins were wolf whistling as their Queen and King snogged on the couch like the teenagers they were.

She came back to herself before it went further than holding and kissing, but the way he stirred her blood was distracting.

She felt a pale blush creep onto her cheeks as Tom leaned back, apparently completely unconcerned. He captured her hand and pressed another kiss onto the back of it in a cautious manner. The common room resumed their actives while hiding small smirks and little grins. Harmony between their co-leaders meant that the house was strong. It protected all of them, and in doing so, it appealed to them in a way other houses, houses that didn't have generations of vassalage in their family histories, might not understand.

 **GGGGGG**

By noon on the 11th of October, Gellert was fidgeting in his throne. He had yet to summon his minions. Hogwarts was hours behind their time zone. He doubted Hermione Granger would be with him before three at the earliest. There was a grand feast planned for later in the evening. He'd been planning it all for weeks, up to and including her punishment if she had fooled him with the stone. He felt as giddy as a school boy.

He would be so disappointed if he found out the ring was a fake or a trap. It would make him very, very sad to have to hurt her.

The ever-efficient Sergei was frowning at the door. "My lord, there are a number of papers than need to be…" The man dropped his nagging when he saw Gellert's face. "I will ask Mrs. Lestrange to go over them."

Gellert shook his head. "I sent her to France. Her pregnancy is grating on her nerves. And in turn, she was grating on mine. She's also completely mad when it comes to Hermione…"

"One alpha bitch does not take kindly to the emergence to a new alpha entering her territory."

Gellert grinned. "No. I suppose not." Lestrange and Sergei didn't get on. He found the whole situation mildly amusing.

His eyes flitted back to the doorway.

"May I suggest some music my lord? I have a group of elfish musicians…" Gellert wrinkled his nose. He didn't care for the creepy-looking house elves. They'd never had them in his home, and he hadn't been exposed to them until Durmstrang.

His head of security wandered away to secure something, or simply to get well away from Gellert's moodiness before it affected him.

Gellert was pretending to read a book two hours later when she walked in, bold as brass, escorted by a relived-looking Sergei.

He met her halfway across the hall, taking in everything from her mane of hair to her silvery cloak. His eyes widened. "Is this?"

She shook her head. "This is a birthday gift from Tom. It has shielding woven into it." She smiled. "I know that it's not normally a great deal of protection, but it was quite sweet of him. I promised him I'd wear it."

Gellert took her hand and kissed it formally. "It was quite sweet of the boy. I suppose he does not trust me?"

She snorted. "Neither do I, past a certain point. If it ever came down to you or me, I know that you would choose you. It's alright though. Because I'm sure you know who I would choose."

He laughed. Any of the other members of his inner circle would be assuring him that they would trade their lives for his own. Whether they would or not when it came down to it was moot, most often they believed they would die for the cause if asked. It only reinforced his notion that most people were sheep that required leading. But this child…she was here, in his inner sanctum, reminding him that she was using his power just as he was using hers'.

Reminding him that she was not a piece of livestock like the rest of them.

"It will not come down to a choice my dear. I could never give up anything that amuses me so." He offered her his arm. "I have a treat for you…two actually."

She cocked her head to the side like the child she resembled, but there was little that was childlike about her.

He spoke as they walked through the throne room. "The first is simple. I wish you to stay for dinner so I can introduce you to some of my people. I want them to know your face." She nodded assent.

"The second treat is in my study."

She betrayed no fear as he led her through the twisting corridors of his home.

He took her to the room where he had met her weeks ago, his personal study. It was a personal room to him, free from almost any outside influence.

"Sit." She took her place in the over-stuffed armchair across from his own. He handed her an intricately carved wooden box.

She opened it carefully. He watched emotions cross her face. The first was surprise, the last was understanding. "You didn't trust me." Her eyes held amusement and something else…a fleeting respect. "I had no idea you knew me so well."

He smiled. "I don't. I am simply a cautious man."

"And a cautious man would not test this stone himself, nor would he allow some random person to do so since the shades we see are individual."

"Just so."

She removed the stone from the gold and cast a few charms on it. He looked at her with a raised brow. She smiled as she cast non-verbally. "I have no idea how the Gaunts might have booby trapped the thing. It's a powerful magical heirloom…of course I am going to check it before I try to use it. I thought that went without saying?"

With that, she flipped the stone three times, and her eyes focused away from him as she saw something that filled her eyes with longing.

 **HGHGHG**

She thought it was going well until he pulled out that thrice-damned stone.

She was supposed to be an orphan. She should have someone to pull across the veil. Perhaps she could convince him that it simply didn't work on her family…because they were muggles? That wasn't going to do anything to reinforce the idea that muggles were human too.

Then everything went out of her head as she saw him…

She knew she stood, knew she stumbled a little, righted herself and tried to meet him halfway.

He held up a hand when she would have rushed into his arms.

"Harry." She didn't realize until she heard the longing in her voice that she'd said it out loud. He grinned at her with his messy hair, green eyes and glasses. He looked like he was in fourth year too. She felt tears begin to run down her face.

"Hermione. Don't answer; just nod your head yes or no. I know you want to know how I can appear here since I haven't even been born yet. I was sent. I don't know why you were longing to see me of all people. You are doing a bloody brilliant job."

She wiped the tears away and shrugged. "I miss you." That was safe enough to say.

"I miss you too. I can't stay long. He's going to ask you about your encounter, just tell him the story about the brave little boy who died at the hands of a mad man, and leave out the bit where I came back."

She nodded. "I have so many questions."

"I wish I could answer them." For a moment, he sped through the ages she'd known him…from eleven year old Harry with broken glasses, to the tall, strong Auror who had been her brother-in-law, as well as a brother in her heart. Even when he was a very old man, his eyes were the same shade of green and he'd always had that smile. She unthinkingly reached out to hug him, and she felt a strong arm pull her back.

Harry whispered, "Tell him you cock and bull story Hermione." She let the stone fall from her hand. She let Gellert Grindelwald of all people hold her as she sobbed.

 **GGGGGG**

He had wondered for a moment if she was going to step right through the veil and be gone. His little seer was attracted to death, and not in the way most of his men were. She longed for those who were already on the other side. That could be problematic.

He let her sob in his arms for nearly ten minutes before he took out his handkerchief and dried her eyes.

"Who did you see?"

"A friend. One that died fighting a powerful dark wizard."

"Was he special to you? Like Tom?"

"He was my brother in everything but blood."

Gellert nodded. "And you saw no one else?"

She shook her head. "I'm not certain it was him. I always wondered if the stone revealed the true souls of the ones we lost or some kind of image of them from our own minds."

Gellert shrugged. "Excellent question. One we shall have to research." He fixed the ring with his wand and slipped it on his middle finger.

"For now, let's get you cleaned up and ready to introduce to my people. They are anxious to meet you." He pulled her up with a mischievous smile. "And later we can discuss your theories on where we might find the cloak."


	41. Chapter 41

_**AN: For all of you who are just waiting for Abraxas to come back…he'll be in the next chapter. I've missed him! Also, I think we'll be seeing little Lucius in the next couple of chapters. See you all next Sunday.**_

If she hadn't had a lifetime of experience behind her, she would have spent weeks upset about Harry's appearance. As it was, she was fit to be seen by others less than a half hour after she saw the shade of her un-born friend. This whole soul business was incredibly confusing. She built new occlumency walls around the memories and her lingering frustration (whoever was running the light side was awfully tight-lipped with helpful information….why send Harry at all if he wasn't allowed to tell her anything useful? She didn't need a cheerleader.)

Gellert didn't ask many questions. She assumed he knew her sob story from his last spy at Hogwarts. She had a plan to find out who the spy might be, but she wasn't ready to put it into action…

He offered her his arm and led her to part of the castle with a flourish and she blinked…twice.

The dining hall was like something out of King Arthur's Court. Even after dealing with purebloods for a lifetime it was a little hard to believe anything like existed outside of Hogwarts…it would seat two hundred adults easily. That wasn't the impressive part. The impressive part was that it implied that at some point in the past someone fed over two hundred people a feast on a regular enough basis to warrant a whole room for it.

Only the first table was set up for this feast. Gellert obviously wasn't going to wreck her cover on the first visit.

She was seated at his right hand, a position that made her frankly a bit nervous. He began discussing business before the wine was even in the cups. She discreetly turned her wine into water non-verbally. He noticed and shot her another of his delighted grins. She grinned back and leaned to whisper in his ear "I need to be on my toes when I return." Implying that Albus Dumbledore was the problem rather than the gang of murderers and thugs seated around her.

He nodded but the smile remained, which made it frankly creepy when he began discussing the razing of a whole village and started celebrating the casualty list.

A short, broad wizard down the table was giving a report in between sips of excellent soup. Apparently word of razing and rapine didn't bother his digestion in the least.

"The muggle governments are too disorganized to note the loss of a single village. It sent the right message to the rebels. Supplying them with grain must be treated as treason. Only a few survivors…people that we knew we could trust, were spared." She understood that someone had exchanged the information about the rebel activities for the lives of their family. She couldn't blame them exactly…

She did not give opinions, nor would she tell anyone what she heard. One thing the Dumbledore in her time had taught her…a spy must wait for the opportune moment. Actually, that lesson might have been best taught by Severus Snape. Dumbledore had used him poorly, like a tool he didn't like much, and yet the man had never balked at the task before him.

Severus Snape had been a hero…a hero he would never need to be in this time. She would find him as a student, and make certain his life was better.

Gellert took a few other reports and then cleared his throat unnecessarily. His people watched him like he was a god or a demon. Even when they spoke to each other, their eyes went to him, and there was a wariness in even the most violent, like they knew at any moment he could turn and decapitate them all because his tea was a touch too cool.

"I know many of you are waiting for a formal announcement." The merry vindictive glint in his eye let her know that he'd held off of that declaration simply to unnerve one of his followers, or perhaps to trick them into a position that would be their downfall. She didn't know which one, but she was sure someone had been given a reprieve for holding their tongue.

"You might be wondering who the young lady beside me is and what her position will be in our glorious band of brothers…Her name is Hermione Granger, and she has proven herself to be a new kind of seer, and a willing spy on Albus Dumbledore." There was no muttering along the table. Half of his men looked like they were mice caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake. "You will treat her with deference only second to myself. Her youth is no matter to me and it will be no matter to you. If her actions warrant punishment, she will be brought to me, and only me. Misunderstandings on this point would be unfortunate." His voice held purring darkness that few people could manage.

She listened and watched the group. Most of them were male, and tended to be between the ages of twenty-five and fifty…

She would bet that most of them were married and did not approve of the idea that their women might be included in this meeting…either because they saw them as fragile or because things went on at the meetings that they didn't want their women exposed to. She was betting on the latter. Even bad men tried to protect their own wives and families.

She nodded politely as he introduced her to a few specific members of his inner circle, but she didn't speak.

Gellert seemed very pleased by the reaction. He was definitely torturing one of his men with her presence. She had no idea why, but his expression was unmistakable.

He watched them and noted which of them noticed his new ring. It glinted on his hand. He wore no other jewelry.

A small man appeared, glared at her, and she felt the serpent around her neck turn its attention to the little man.

"Karkaroff." Hermione searched his face for signs of the man she knew by that name…other than a slight weakness in the chin, she didn't see much in common between the two men. Maybe he was a cousin rather than directly related.

"My Lord, have you considered my little insurance policy?"

Gellert frowned at the little man. "I don't see the need to seed Britain with children who will become fanatics for our cause. The idea that it will take that long to cause their Ministry to fall is laughable. It may take years rather than months, but it will not take a generation. Implying it might demonstrates a rather regrettable lack of faith."

Hermione nodded to herself. That was close to what she expected. Britain had no formal army. No one in the wizarding world did as a rule. The cost of fielding an army made up of wizards was enormous. It was why not one of the European nations had managed to do more than fend him off. Gellert was holding the chain on the most powerful army the world had ever seen, and no one had suspected he was even building it before it was too late. Other countries had citizens that were armed and fairly dangerous, but they were no match for a well funded, well trained organized army.

Worse (from an insurrection standpoint), very little changed once the edge of the war absorbed villages and towns. The day-to-day tasks of living remained largely the same. Oh, they were a tad more oppressed, and the taxes in those districts that had actively opposed him were crippling. But here to Grindelwald had devised a brilliant scheme to keep the peace so he wasn't fighting a war on two fronts. The people who had opposed him simply had to pledge their allegiance to him. Once they were pledged, grain rations were given that kept their families from starving. It was all quite brilliant, in a merciless, sociopathic way.

After all, the common people didn't deal in games of nations. They dealt in gathering eggs from their chickens and barley from their fields; they spent their lives keeping bellies full and hearths warm. If Gellert didn't interfere with that too much, they would murmur about his regime, but they wouldn't raise a wand against it. War interrupted those activities that kept bellies full and hearths warm. It stole lives and ability and sanity.

Karkaroff was giving her a nasty look after the mild rebuke from Grindelwald. "And does the fall of your own country not disturb you?"

Hermione smiled coldly. "Nothing would please me more than to see the Ministry brought low. I will see it happen in my lifetime. One cannot cleanse rot without fire you know."

Heads nodded around the table. The little wizard murmured something and backed away.

Sergei placed a ham-like hand over her shoulder. "Well said little sister." He smiled nastily. "You should beware her wand Karkaroff. The night she was first brought to our master she left the little French bastard in a bloody puddle in the square. It took the healers a week to patch him up."

Karkaroff snorted. "I would not brag about laying him out, even if I were a fifteen year old girl."

Hermione chuckled and raised her glass. The other man's mouth quirked slightly. "Still, I suppose along with her other gifts…"

Gellert inclined his head. "So pleased to have your approval. Sit down. You are ruining my dessert."

The other man bowed stiffly. Hermione took a bite of the tart in front of her.

Gellert took a long drink of his wine. "Miss Granger must leave. I shall return once I have seen her to the port key."

He offered her his arm and they rose. It was dark out, but she had plenty of time to get back to Hogwarts before curfew.

Her cloak kept her well warmed as she walked with the most dangerous man in the world at that moment. He was good company, discussing a certain rare flower that only bloomed at night, and the potion-making possibilities of it. "I have a whole team scouring the jungle in Brazil looking for it."

She nodded. If she had an army, some of them would be scouring the world for potions ingredients. And rare books.

Gellert handed her a knitted sock with aplomb. "Your chariot, my lady. Don't let Albus see it, but keep it with you. He and I had a running joke about socks…nothing you need concern yourself with, but he might recognize it. The magic is rather my own particular style. It can be used to bring you back at any time."

"An everlasting port key?" She felt her eyes widen.

He grinned. "Yes. Something I've spent years developing. It only can travel between two set destinations, my home, and Hogsmead…but I do not leave you in your place as spy without protection. My spy…"

She put a hand on his wrist. "Don't tell me. At least not yet." She looked down. "Your spy has been loyal to you all this time. Let me get my bearings before you give me that bit of information."

He laughed. "You are a treasure. Are you certain you haven't seen the identity of my spy?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know who your spy might be. I know some of the things they must have done: the attack on the divination professor that allowed Madam Lestrange back into the school…"

"Very good. I knew you were a clever child." He bent down and kissed her softly on her cheek, warm, wine-scented breath on her neck, and long fingers around her arms.

"Owl me with the next date you can escape Dumbledore's eye. Sneak out if you can."

She shook her head. "That might expose me to him and end all hope that he will come with us. He's very protective of me. He keeps a close eye on both Tom and I."

Gellert smiled, and it was not a pretty thing. "I know why he would keep a close eye on Tom…the boy is delectable and just Albus' cup of tea. But he's never had eyes for a woman before."

She blushed. "He doesn't see either of us that way. He sees us as children."

Gellert wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. "The more fool he." He ran his nose along her jaw and kissed her.

She didn't throw up, but she didn't act like she enjoyed it. She pushed at his chest and frowned. "I am with Tom."

Gellert laughed. "Oh to be young again." He seemed genuinely amused. "Go my lovely one. I promise, you shall not come to harm at my hands when you return." His eyes sparkled coldly and she wondered at his definition of 'harm'.

She didn't contemplate it too long. She simply allowed her magic to activate the portkey and found herself back in Hogsmead.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Tom took off more points during that day at Hogsmead than he'd ever taken in his life. The students quickly learned to scatter as he approached and woe betide the fool that was actually plotting anything.

Albus was sitting at the Three Broomsticks, trying to look unconcerned. The man was pants at the entire spying business. He needed a bloody keeper. "Why don't you go grade some tests?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. "Why don't you go study for your NEWTS?"

"Because I haven't taken my OWLs yet?"

"Because you can't concentrate."

Tom looked around to make sure no one was watching, and picked up the man's firewhiskey and tossed it back.

"Tom!"

He grinned. "Albus. Just try not to be so obvious. We both know he has another spy around here somewhere."

Albus sighed and signaled Iris behind the bar that he'd like another drink.

Tom left the bar and began to 'patrol' the outer ring of the town…which was really just a way to pace while he waited for Hermione to reappear. Hopefully no one would tie his foul temper to the fact that she'd been missing…but if they did, she could just tell Grindelwald that he was worried. Lie that were mostly truth were always easier.

He was pacing around the northern edge of town when he saw her. He cast a quick charm on both of them and pulled her into his arms, kissing her like she was the air he breathed.

His hands ran over her body, searching frantically for any injuries.

She pulled him back to her mouth and muttered 'Don't do that, you'll give a girl the wrong idea."

He chuckled, but allowed himself to be pulled back to her lips. "It would be exactly the right idea if we weren't waiting for some unfathomable reason."

"It's fathomable." She didn't stop kissing him though.

The eventually broke apart and he sighed. "As much as I hate to mention it, Albus is drinking himself insensible waiting for you as well."

She rolled her eyes. "In the bar?" She started stomping off toward the Three Broomsticks. "Of all the addle pated…"

He caught her hand. "Go easy on him. He was worried."

She sighed. "I was worried too." She pulled her cloak close. "Can you drop by on your rounds and let him know I'm back? I'll meet you both in his office."

Tom caught her for one last kiss. "I will do this, if you promise to tell me about every minute of it."

She shuddered. He held her tighter. "What's wrong?"

"He wanted me to use the stone. The resurrection stone."

"Who did you see?"

"Harry."

Tom frowned, obviously unhappy about it. "Seeing him was…difficult. I might have broken down and cried on Grindlewald."

"You cried on the man who is destroying the world?"

"He offered me a clean handkerchief and everything. It did seem to convince him that even though I'm powerful, I'm a still a girl…"

"You don't want him to think of you as a girl."

"I told him I was _your_ girl."

Tom felt his heart beat in his chest. Part of it was fear that he wouldn't be able to live up to that boast if Grindelwald ever decided to take her away…the man had a bloody army after all. But most of it was male satisfaction that when she needed it, his name had been there to protect her. She had used their relationship as her shield in a tricky situation. He caught her lips and kissed her again…


	42. Chapter 42

_**AN: I am so sorry about last week's chapter. My computer went down again and I lost it…twice. I just cried and gave up after the second time. In fact, this chapter is entirely different from the other one I originally wrote…I decided that life was trying to tell me something. I don't like to post a 'sorry, this isn't a chapter' note (I HATE those…). Anyway…here is this week's chapter, please forgive me.**_

"He's fairly busy with his current trouble." She took a large bite of the shepherd's pie in front of her and chewed quickly. Dumbledore had taken a sober-up potion and Tom was watching her with his arms crossed. She swallowed and took a long drink of pumpkin juice.

She turned to Dumbledore. "The good news is that Ivanova keeps raiding his local grain store which will invalidate the fealty bond he's initiated. If he can't keep them fed, they don't have to fight for him."

"Of course that also means they starve."

"Not if we were able to provide other rations."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll make inquiries. It's a good idea and one of his few weaknesses. We'd need to get the word out and find a way to deliver the supplies."

Tom grimaced. "Without getting caught, because if they get caught, Grindelwald will skin them alive and feed them to manticores"

She nodded. "I don't have an accurate troop count, but I have reason to believe that in addition to men he keeps at his castle that there are other bases."

"Of course. He's not one to leave all of his eggs in one basket, no matter how well warded that basket might be."

Hermione nodded as she ate another hefty forkful. "I'll find a way to use that knowledge in our favor. He mentioned the invisibility cloak, but he didn't press. Having two of the Hallows together is enough. He's wearing the ring openly. A few of his men noticed, but even in his inner circle of thirty wizards, not many of them knew what it was."

Albus pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. "Good to know he hasn't changed. Up until now his excessive caution has kept him safe." His face turned peaceful. "But the tides change."

Hermione took another large bite. "That's what we are counting on."

 **HGHGHG**

Halloween came and went with only a token of protest from Grindelwald over Hermione's absence from his side. Her letters to her 'aunt' turned acidic as she reminded him that she couldn't very well spy for him if she was caught out the first week. "Turning hearts and minds takes time." Tom watched her constant stream of owls with trepidation.

In the meantime, Tom was furiously researching a better alternative than a flimsy cloak and necklace to keep her safe. He would never admit it, but he'd even broached the subject of going into hiding…twice.

Hermione had remained adamant.

Tom cursed lightly, but it didn't surprise him. She was a hurricane. She moved where she would and the rest of humanity got out of the way or they were flattened by the debris.

He began taking a weekly tea with Albus without Hermione. It served several purposes. For one thing, it would get back to Grindelwald that both he and Hermione were in Dumbledore's confidence. Also, Albus was an accomplished legilimens. He could monitor Tom's surface thoughts while they took tea and see if the false 'running commentary' ever showed cracks or breaks.

Tom had gotten good enough at the game that it was beginning to bore him; much more so when Dumbledore trounced him at wizards chess.

"You can't be better than everyone else at everything." The man was polishing his half-moon spectacles with a slightly smug air. Tom tapped his wand on the board to reset the pieces. He hated losing. Even with Albus it was hard to show that kind of weakness…losing was weakness and weakness meant death. Losing wasn't acceptable.

He took a deep, calming breath. He knew…deep down, that a game was not a matter of life or death…his brain knew this, and yet, some primordial part of him insisted that showing any weakness was the same as inviting others to kill him…

He took a sip of tea as the chess pieces watched him expectantly. He closed his eyes and pushed the board away. "I think I'm done for now…" Until he read every book on chess in the library at least.

Albus grinned. "I caught a hint of that."

Tom shrugged. "Nothing wrong with wanting to be better."

Albus nodded as he put the set away carefully…the black knight kept trying to hop out of the box and the wizard eventually had to result to a sticking spell to keep the little man in there.

"As long as you are doing it for the right reasons, I daresay there isn't. But you might consider why you need to win so badly, just for your own peace of mind." Albus took a sip of his tea, grimaced, and added three additional cubes of sugar. "Then again, who am I to judge?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Did my shields falter?"

Albus shook his head. "Not at all. They were almost preternaturally smooth. Some of the images were a little unrealistic…there was a faked memory of you and Hermione at a circus….it was a bit fuzzy around the edges and there was nothing unpleasant in the entire memory, so I could tell it was faked."

"How?"

"For one, there was no animal waste anywhere in it, and no clowns, a fact which I am grateful for. I have no idea why Muggles seem drawn to them…"

Tom snickered. "Afraid of clowns are we?"

"I am also aware that a fourteen year old boy would find the rather revealing outfits that the ladies wore more interesting than candy floss and a mangy lion in a cage."

Tom snorted. "Not if he were taking Hermione, he wouldn't."

Albus snorted as he poured another cup of that too-sweet tea. Tom slid a realistic image of Professor Merrythought snogging Ogg into his thoughts and cast a shield charm. The other wizard caught his eye and sputtered on his tea, spitting it all over the room.

"For Circe's sake, Tom! Don't do that!" Albus was laughing as he cleaned up the sticky mess with a quick wave of his wand. Tom allowed himself a tiny grin and poured himself another cup of tea. Albus always had the best blends.

Dumbledore cast a drying charm on his beard which had caught the worst of the tea. It frizzed out and he had to do another muttered spell on it. "Really Tom, was that strictly necessary?" There was laughter underneath the words so Tom just smirked. "No, it wasn't necessary. But it was funny."

Albus couldn't repress a slight twitch in his own lips. "You should show Professor Merrythought a modicum of respect. She's been at Hogwarts…"

"Since he founders left. I know."

"Nearly a hundred years certainly." Albus, unfazed by Tom's snarky rejoinder, began the process of making a new cup of tea.

"I would respect her if she taught anything. We have a war brewing and Hogwarts has a defense professor who spends half of our OWL year discussing a semantic argument about jinxes and counter jinxes. We need a more practical approach." Tom helped himself to one of the assortment of biscuits that Albus always provided. They were from a muggle shop in London, covered in chocolate. He took a tiny bite and savored the buttery flavor highlighted by the chocolate.

"How did you even get these? Half the shops in London aren't selling anything anymore. Everything is going to the war effort…"

"The tide of that war is turning as well. The trade routes are open again. Although, I must admit…I had these under a stasis charm. They actually imported those from France and it, alas, is not yet free."

"You are siding with the British Muggles in this war?"

"I am not meddling in it, but yes. Grindelwald has used the horrors from the German Muggle to cover the horrors he himself committed. A man that Gellert can use as a cover must be stopped." Tom nodded.

"Will you speak to the headmaster about Merrythought? Something has to be done."

Albus sighed. "She's been a brilliant, powerful witch for many years…I remember when she taught me it was one of my favorite classes…"

"But now she's gone around the twist and the wizarding world is being left defenseless, just when we may be fighting the strongest army that the world has ever seen."

"Speaking with Dippett about her would do no good. The man has a hopeless crush on her."

Tom wrinkled his nose and Albus laughed. "Tit for tat. Unfortunately, my memories are all very true, and thus much more uncomfortable. If you are ever in need of an emetic, I'll be certain to show you." Tom shook his head. "I was wrong…there is a fate worse than death."

They both chuckled and Albus reached up to pet Fawkes. "In all seriousness, I suspect Merrythought dislikes my politics so I doubt I would be able to reach her in that way."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "She's not fond of Muggles? Or is it Muggleborns?"

Albus narrowed his eyes. "Perceptive. Yes, the Professor actually seemed like the most tolerant of the professors when I was in school. It wasn't until I became a professor myself that I learned that she argued that any student with exceptional magical talent must in fact be at least half-blood." Albus shook his head. "She is quite adamant about it. She's always speculating about the 'unknown' students…comparing them to one old family or another. She swears Hermione looks like a Black, and with that hair, she actually does. Which only goes to prove that humanity really is one big family." Albus chuckled and Tom toasted him with his teacup. "The professor is fairly harmless in her prejudices…she's not tempted to harm those students with limited potential…simply wonder loudly about their muggle ancestry in the lounge."

Tom nodded. Albus knew that Hermione was muggle-born of course, but eventually the girl would have to 'come-out' to the rest of the wizarding world. She'd been right to wait, to position herself on the proverbial high-ground before this fight. Tom knew that it was going to be different from the battle against Grindelwald. Grindelwald was all about spells and reflexes and cunning. The battle of Hermione's blood was going to be about clever words and phrasing, and about shining a light on old prejudices. He needed the proper vocabulary…and some new hexes.

Albus put a hand on Tom' shoulder. "Your shields are slipping. And while I applaud your willingness to defend our Miss Granger, you might consider sharing this secret with young Mister Malfoy. It would be a tactical advantage to have him in your corner, and it also happens to be the right thing to do, which is a lovely coincidence. I think you'll find that Abraxas will not give either of you up over so small a matter as blood purity. And I suspect he would be very hurt if he hears this rumor through other sources…and you know how the man gossips!"

Tom nodded as he painstakingly rebuilt his shields and layered the false memories over them.

He laughed when Albus choked on a biscuit though….it might have something to do with the false memory of Ogg snogging Dumbledore that was running through Tom's mind. He kept laughing…even when Albus knocked him in the head with a half-eaten biscuit.

 **TMRTMR**

An owl was dispatched to request Abraxas' presence in Hogsmead the next weekend. Hermione's excuse to Grindelwald was that she was working with Dumbledore and he would notice if she did anything more than pop down to the pub. "I had to promise him I would be at his side on the next weekend. And I'll need something to show for my 'search' for the cloak."

Albus didn't look happy about that statement. Actually, none of them were happy about it.

"I don't know why he keeps insisting that you try to recruit me. I can't believe he would think I would join him after everything…"

Hermione put a warm hand on Albus'. "As evil as he may be, he misses you. You may always be his weakness."

Albus looked away, unable or unwilling to hold her gaze. Hermione changed the subject. "And it's completely in character for the girl he thinks I am to try to recruit you. Especially after he kissed me last time. The girl I'm pretending to be would douse you in a love potion and haul you to him herself if she had to."

Albus dropped his book and Tom went deathly still. "What kiss?"

Hermione cursed lightly under her breath. "Would you believe I forgot to mention it?"

Tom's voice held a darkness that he tried desperately to keep in check. "It must have slipped your mind."

She hunched her shoulders. "I have antirape jinxes on me if he tries to go too far. I told you the important part."

"You mean the bloody resurrection stone?"

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. "No. The part where I told him I was your girl."

Uncontrolled magic crackled through the office and shattered a tiny glass phoenix that was on Albus' desk.

"You can't go back without me." Tom ground the words out between clinched teeth. Magic crackled along his skin like lightning.

"Tom." She reached for him again, and he took a step back. Her face fell.

"I'm not safe right now…I'm just…just give me a moment to get myself under control."

She sighed. "I'll give you as long as you need…but not because I think you would hurt me."

"Damn it Hermione." He reached over to her and pulled her into his arms so quickly it was almost as if he'd summoned her. The magic caused her hair to float around them like they were under water, but left her otherwise untouched.

He ran his fingers over her face and kissed her deeply. "You. Can't. Go." He took a deep breath. "Not without me. Promise me."

She caressed his cheekbone with an unfathomable look in her eyes. "Promise me that you won't let his darkness tempt you? That no matter what he offers or what he threatens that you will tell him no. Promise you won't decide that it would be worth it to take over the world."

Tom held her to his chest and chuckled. "He threatened you. I might pretend to join him so that I can get close enough to strike at him, but rest assured, I have been planning this man's death for a very long time. Nothing he could say or give me would change my mind. Just don't make me promise not to kill him."

 **HJGHJGHJG**

Hermione and Tom met Abraxas in a corner of the Hog's Head- stilly grimy, still dingy, and still manned by Aberforth Dumbledore (albeit a slightly less grizzled Aberforth). They ordered two butterbeers and endured his glares until they joined Abraxas at the table where he was nursing a firewhiskey and eyeing the sticky floor with profound distrust.

"I'm fairly certain that stain is older than my grandfather."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "It might be older than Hogwarts."

Abraxas put his head in his hand and batted his eyes fetchingly at Hermione. "And the reason we are meeting here rather than the moderately comfortable Three Broomsticks?"

Hermione cast a series of silencing spells and wards that made Aberforth lift up his head and raise his bushy eyebrows. Hermione turned to the boys. "We're here because while the barkeeper isn't friendly with Albus, he despises Grindelwald, and vice versa. And if Grindelwald does find out that we came in, I can just mention that I wanted to have a conversation I would be certain wouldn't be repeated to Dumbledore."

"The reason for the silencing spell I assume."

"Exactly."

"Well, this was worth the trip…mind you, nearly anything is worth a trip outside the house with Helga wailing the way she has been."

"I take it your blushing bride didn't acclimate well to the curtailment of her movements."

"If you call breaking every knick knack in the green salon taking it well…"

Hermione snorted. "You always said those porcelain shepherds were hideous."

"Why do you think I told her about it there?"

"Very Slytherin of you."

"Thank you. But I assume we didn't come here to discuss my complicated romantic life. All these wards make me think there is something interesting going on. I can smell a secret you know."

"It's probably just whatever caused that sticky spot by your elbow."

Malfoy jumped away and Tom chortled.

Abraxas straitened his immaculate robes and glared.

Hermione pushed his drink at him and smiled tentatively. She found that she was nervous, really nervous, about his reaction. The boys noticed her mood and settled quickly.

"I assume you didn't ask me here simply because you enjoy my company."

Hermione sighed. "Actually, that's a big part of why we did…"

Abraxas looked pleased for a long moment. "Well, I am highly enjoyable."

Tom rolled his eyes.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I have something to tell you. I should have told you before, but I was afraid."

Abraxas dropped his air of devilish flirtation like a lead weight. "You told me that my wife was plotting to kill me with less fanfair than this." He gave her his best angelic smile. "Unless you are about to break my heart by telling me that you can never be mine, I beg you to end the misery and just tell me."

Tom hit his arm reflexively. "How many times do I have to tell you to find your own witch?"

Hermione didn't join in their banter. Abraxas cupped her face. "Tell me. What makes you so afraid? If it is a wizard or a beast we will hunt it down and use its bones for potions." There was a hard note in his voice, despite his flip words.

Tom reached out and touched the other man's arm. "Relax. This is just something about her past. The deceit started with me, the first night we arrived. I deliberately told everyone in the common room a story and left some information out…information that I thought would harm Hermione…that I still think might hurt Hermione if it's known before she's in a position to defend herself."

"What do you mean?"

"He let you, and everyone assume that my parents were pure bloods, just because they were on the run from a dark wizard."

Abraxas relaxed. "So you are a half-blood then? There is no shame in that. People don't like to discuss it of course, but there any number of half-bloods even in families where the main line is all witch and wizard. I can see why you didn't advertize….it might make for some awkward questions and some of the high-sticklers might not approve…"

She shook her head. "I'm not a half-blood. I'm a muggleborn. There wasn't a drop of magical blood in my family, so when I showed up they were quite surprised."

Abraxas gaped like a fish. "But _there are_ Grangers…"

"Not any relatives of mine, as far as I can tell."

Abraxas was still and silent for a long moment. Then he tossed back his firewhiskey.

"A witch found you?"

"She recognized what I was. It was a relief for my Muggle parents to be sure…I was quite a handful."

Abraxas' lips quirked. "I imagine so." He took a deep breath. "We need to introduce the other Muggleborns to the wizarding world sooner if it produces witches like you."

He was probably surprised when he ended up with an arm full of wild curls and soft witch, but he didn't seem displeased. Tom just rolled his eyes and motioned for another round of drinks.


	43. Chapter 43

_**AN: I think I need to give up trying to predict how long this story will be. I'm wrapping everything up as quickly as I can without making it feel forced. Every week I write a chapter and every week I wish I'd gotten a little further…I really wanted to add a little more about certain things this time, but I think I set it all up for the next bit.**_

 _ **NOTE: This chapter squicked me in a major way. I wanted to show that Gellert was not a 'good guy' and I managed it in a way that made me a little sick to my stomach. Just a heads up. It's not graphic, but what it implies is enough. If you are a sensitive sort, please skip the bits with Grindel-wobbly.**_

 _ **Have a great Sunday! I will see all of you next week.**_

Tom wouldn't have believed it when Hermione chose to take the half-giant under her wing, but he was rather fond of dueling Hagrid.

The large third year was not a challenge when it came to offensive spells by any stretch of the imagination…only constant tutoring helped him pass Defense. But he was quick for his size, good with charms, and resistant to almost any low-level spell you could toss at him unless it was absurdly over-powered.

It was like stunning a dragon. Which made a duel between them physically taxing.

Hagrid tossed a towel at him and took another for himself. Tom grunted as he caught the flying cloth in the diaphragm.

"Sorry! I didn't mean ter hurt ye."

Tom chuckled as he wiped himself down. "No harm done Hagrid. Old Sluggy let me brew a fresh batch of bruise cream during class and I brought it. Do you need some? It wouldn't do to go to the hospital wing with injuries."

The younger boy shook his good-natured head. "Nah. This is nothin'." He patted his ribs and grinned. "Ye should have seen the scratch I got the other day off one of the werewolf pups…"

The color drained from Hagrid's face as Tom swore in French (a bad habit he'd picked up from too much time with a certain blond prat).

Hagrid gulped. "I shouldn't a told you that."

Tom counted to ten in his head and then took a deep, cleansing breath. "Just tell me they aren't in the castle Hagrid." Tom hoped against hope…

"Well, er…not exactly in the castle itself…maybe jus' under my bed in my dorm…" He clutched Tom's cloak as he started for the door. "Tom! Ye can't put them out! They're jus' babies, abandoned by their mum an' all…"

Tom stopped, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Babies that can infect anyone but a half-giant or a vela with lycanthropy."

"But see, Dumbledore got me a room by meself, on account that I need more room he said, though I think it might have been more that the other students were afraid I might eat one of them if I got peckish…"

"Merlin. Does anyone else know?"

Hagrid shook his head. "I didna want 'em scratching nobody. The house elves have been helping me feed 'em."

"They can't stay in your dorm." He sighed. "Let's go see if Albus has a better solution."

"You think the professor would help?"

"I think anything is better than letting them get out and infect half your common room. Hermione would have our heads if Minerva gets bitten, you know she would." Hagrid flinched, either at the idea of Minerva getting bitten or at the idea of Hermione being mad at him.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Albus looked vaguely impressed when Tom brought the issue of the werewolf pup to him.

He turned to Hagrid. "It speaks well of your heart my boy, but there are better ways. I am glad you found them. Werewolves do not remember the pups the next morning so they have no idea that they are leaving their offspring to die."

Tom frowned. "That's horrific."

Albus nodded. "It is. There is a local pack that guards the Forbidden Forrest. The search after the full moon for others of their kind who are abandoned. They are far more intelligent than mere wolves. Once the pups are weaned, we'll introduce them, though I must ask you not to try to find their den, my boy. The older wolves would be most displeased and there is no reason for any violence between us and them." Hagrid looked a bit heartbroken at the idea of not seeing the pups again.

"They may of course find you as they get older and roam the forest, should you continue, shall we shall, your extracurricular explorations." He put one long finger to his lips and smiled.

Tom shook his head and left them to work out the details. Raising werewolf pups under his bed! The boy was a menace.

He was traveling through the dungeons when he saw a little snake in the halls. He rolled his eyes, checked to make sure no one was around, and picked it up.

" _So you were just minding your own business when someone accidentally summoned you from the forest?"_

The snake nodded _. "Wizards are thoughtless like that. They think that everything in the world is there for their benefit."_

Tom sighed and took the snake down to the forest concealed in his robes. It wouldn't do for people to know about him, they hadn't found his predilection for snakes so far.

He was finally near the common room when he heard it.

" _Are you here? Salazar? Did I hear you?"_

He frowned, looking for the source of the noise. One of the ghosts or that blasted poltergeist playing a prank?

"Hello?"

There was no answer. Deciding it must have been a ghost, Tom walked into the common room.

He had more research to do before the two of them met Gellert Grindelwald next.

 **HGHGHGHG**

Hermione tugged at her cloak as Tom wrapped a matching black version around himself.

She reached down, kissed him fiercely, and they walked down to Hogsmead. She pulled out the old sock and wrapped her magic around it enough to activate it without bothering with her wand.

Sergei was waiting for them and the look on his face when he saw her was that of a stoic man who was very, very relived.

He bowed slightly. "My lady." She inclined her head but when Tom caught her eye questioningly, she shrugged behind the big man's back. The men hadn't shown her this kind of deference before.

They met no one else as they made their way to Gellert's private study. Sergei motioned them inside and closed the door without setting foot in the room.

Hermione walked in. The room was lit with a thousand candles and a roaring fire at the hearth. Gellert sat in his favorite chair but his eyes were those of a haunted man and there was more white in his curly hair.

Hermione approached him. He didn't seem to notice her at first, but then he grabbed her wrist. "They won't go away."

She tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong.

"Who?"

"The dead. As soon as I put on the ring they came. The ones I killed. They won't let me sleep, won't let me eat." He kept muttering.

Hermione sighed and pulled the ring off of his finger. He'd lost weight in just the past few weeks.

A bit of sanity returned to his eyes. "You shouldn't wear the damn thing all the time. Didn't you see how mad Gaunt was?"

"It's my ring…my birthright." She carefully didn't roll her eyes.

"Just put it away for safekeeping then. Just so nothing happens to it." He was still clutching the ring, but his eyes looked less mad. She pulled out a pepper up potion out of her bag along with a nutrient solution. She hated to waste them, but she wasn't here to kill Gellert. It would be far worse if one of his lieutenants took his place; one who had no tie to Dumbledore to stay his hand when it came to killing the other wizard. The older wizard drank and steam came out of his ears.

"Gellert, can I formally introduce Tom Riddle? He's my other half."

Geller smirked at the phrase as Tom offered a firm handshake and small smile, though the effect was ruined a bit by the steam.

"I've been longing to meet you officially Tom. I was under the impression in the forest that you weren't all that inclined toward me."

"Armed attacks will give that impression. But I'm not one to throw away a valuable connection over a little misunderstanding like multiple kidnapping attempts."

Gellert laughed and a little of the grey tinge left his face. Hermione looked at him with real concern. "I don't think you should put the ring on again for right now. We could make you a fake to wear…"

Gellert shook his head. "Some of my men would know, and wonder. I could let you wear it instead…as a mark of my…admiration."

Hermione blanched. "Only if I pretended to be your daughter."

Gellert raised a brow. "Explain."

"You have implied to your troupes that only your bloodline can master the hollows. Ergo, if you want me to babysit that thing, they would have to think that I was your daughter."

Gellert grinned. "Tom, my dear boy, there is a book across the room, on the table…a blue one. Please get it."

Tom showed no hint of mistrust at the request and therefore Hermione knew he was controlling his body and mind and shielding like he was dueling.

Gellert leaned forward and whispered "I know why you thought this, but be aware, the perception that you are my daughter will not keep me from any plan that I decide is needful. It wouldn't even keep me from officially making you my lady." He chuckled. "Without telling them that you aren't my daughter."

Hermione felt sick. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "You wanted to know where I draw the line? I draw the line right there. If you try to take me, we will duel and I will win." She felt her own wand pulse in her hand. She didn't even remember taking it out.

Gellert tossed back his head and laughed; there was a mad undertone to it. "I would never take you my pet. Seduce you until you begged me, yes, but never take. Rape requires no skill. It is not a tool one uses on someone they intend to keep."

Tom returned with the book and a smooth expression, but there was a murderous glint in his eyes. Gellert smiled at Tom like he was viewing the prettiest cupcake at the pastry shop. "Thank you, dear boy." He flipped through the pages. "Yes, here it is. My family tree."

He tossed the book at Hermione. "Take it. Read it. In the meantime, you will wear the ring and you will guard it." His tone dared anyone to contradict him.

She shared a look with Tom and sighed as she slid the book into her bag and the ring onto her finger. Her eyes closed, and her parents appeared. She smiled as they walked up.

Tom wrapped an arm around her protectively. Hermione reached for them, but lowered her hand as her mother shook her head. "I was so honored to be part of you last life Hermione. You were the bravest woman I have ever known. Braver still to come here and face this." She nodded her head to Grindelwald, her expression turning fierce.

Her father took his wife's hand. "I wish we could be there to help you, sweetling, but you are doing well. We can't stay long, these forms are not stable since we haven't worn them yet."

Her mother blew her a kiss. "Follow your heart, my love."

They wandered off, but others came, faces she'd known in her other life. Most didn't speak. Lavender Brown, who had died at the battle of Hogwarts came and sat down on the sofa. "This is nice. They don't let me out much you know…we'll be in and out, thanks to the ring, but you need to focus on the people around you rather than the spirits. Otherwise you'll look as mad as Grindle-wobbly over there. If he adopts you, promise to call him Daddykins?"

She giggled lightly, and it was somehow less annoying in her spirit form.

Gellert shook her lightly. "Guests?"

She sighed. "My parents. I didn't see them last time. And a girl I knew. We didn't like each other much, but she seems nice enough now." Lavender smiled and blew her a kiss before wandering away.

Tom laced his fingers through her own.

Gellert looked at her keenly. "Perhaps it is because I killed so many."

"That would make them rather inclined to hate you."

He shrugged. "I don't really care as long as long as I don't have to see them." He gave her a charming smile that was quite a bit less mad that the previous one. "We will dine with my army today. Tom, you've barely said a word. Come. Sit. Let's talk."

 **TMRTMR**

Tom knew he was giving all the right answers and all the right facial expressions. He was very good at reading people after all. He was fine until Gellert asked one particular question.

"What would you kill for?"

"Hermione." It wasn't the right answer. He felt his eyes grow cold, the fake warmth chased away by something much larger, more frightening.

Grindelwald let a smile inch across his face. "I see. I knew there was darkness in you boy."

"There is darkness in everyone."

"True. But some of us have more than others. I wonder, when it comes to the two of you…" He shook his head and didn't finish the thought. "But there is time enough for that." He shook his head and turned to Hermione. "Tell me, my prize…have you seen anything about the cloak?"

She sighed. "Well Grindel-Wobbly my dear, I must admit that I have had less luck finding it. I think that it may have spells on it to hide it from what those carnival side-show charlatans erroneously call the 'inner eye'. I'm trying to make a connection with the cloak by doing research. So far I've found ninety-five odd occurrences in history that might be cloak. I focused on Hogwarts of course since I know for a fact that the cloak is in England at the moment…I have seen that much."

"Why then, did you tell me you'd seen it in Australia, minx?"

"Because you were trying to kidnap me at the time and I'm not fond of being forced into anything. I told you I saw it there…and I did…once. But that's in the future…fifty years or so in the future." She shrugged. "Just because I've seen it doesn't mean it has happened yet."

"Who had it in your vision?"

"A dark haired boy that hasn't even been born. Impossible to say where he got it really."

"There have to be other clues." Tom could tell that Gellert was losing his calm facade, and they didn't want that.

"That's why we are researching. I volunteered to go through reports of misdeeds in the school for the last thousand years. I imagine if you had an invisibility cloak, it would lead to some mischief that might not be explained."

"And how did you get Albus to allow that."

"I didn't. I asked Dippett if I could organize them in my spare time. He just thinks I'm shamelessly angling for the head boy position."

Gellert calmed down. "And what will you tell Albus?"

"That I'm preparing for the headboy position. Merlin knows they'd be mad to give it to anyone else."

Hermione snorted and Gellert grinned at both of them, equilibrium apparently restored. "And what of your progress on recruiting my dear Albus?"

Hermione shrugged. "He hates the Ministry, distrusts tem. You know that. He's alone, without family and very few close friends. When he showers, half the time he scrubs his skin until he bleeds. He is surrounded by lesser wizards and witches and trapped, unable to pursue his potential because of the social chains he's wound around himself. I intend to free him of those and unlock his real power." Both Gellert and Tom looked at Hermione. Both were openly admiring her, but only Tom knew that this little speech was utter codswallop.

Gellert tossed back his head and laughed. "I changed my mind. You are my daughter, no matter who you were born to. Those are my words! Mine! I said something very close to those words to Albus a half century ago." He put a hand on her curls in a faux fatherly gesture that made Tom want to melt the appendage off of him. "Wear the ring little one. Come and meet our loyal troops."

 **GGGGGGGG**

Gelert missed the weight of the ring, but not the visions it had engineered. He hadn't told Hermione, but he'd been unable to take the ring off his hand once he'd placed it there. He'd had weeks of spirits hissing at him. He had escorted his new 'daughter' to the port-key point, along with her loyal knight. Such a beautiful boy…but he wasn't worth losing the girl. She was a kindred spirit…a new family…and once she brought Albus back to him…perhaps there was a spell that could combine all three of their essences and create a new breed of wizard. He meant what he told her. Nothing would keep him from seducing her. She was the perfect vehicle for the next generation. And if his troops thought he was perverted enough to breed his own daughter, it would not hurt him in their eyes. The men he surrounded himself with were debauched beyond that.

 **HGHGHG**

"He _gave_ you the ring?"

Hermione was shaking as Albus poured her another cup of hot chocolate. "He can't bear to wear it. He practically announced that I was his daughter during dinner, but he kept staring at me…"

Tom finished. "Like he still wanted you…or wanted you even more. Some of his men noticed. Some of them smirked, a few of them looked sick. He doesn't realize that there are some things eve his men would object to. "

Hermione took a long drink and then passed her cup to Tom. "Very little, but I got that from them too. Did you notice Sergei's face? He's the guard captain, and he looked ill."

"I saw it. Captain Smith looked a bit green as well."

"Did you learn anything to make the trip worth the risk?"

"Loads. All of his major generals attended. I have a few names…and I invented a charm…" She twisted her wand in a quarter turn and jabbed it forward a bit. A pile of neat muggle-style photos were on the table. "There, now we have pictures of all of their faces. That will help."

Tom grinned. "When did you learn to do that?"

She blushed. "It was just an idea I've been working on while you've been designing shield cloaks without me."

He kissed her forehead.

Tom continued, "We also met a good portion of his army; he wants them to know our faces. I'd say that we saw around five hundred wizards today. Almost all the foot soldiers were men."

Hermione added, "I'd guess that he has at least double that. All hardened, battle-tested witches and wizards."

Tom did the mental math, based on the goods he'd seen at Diagon alley. "Merlin. I'd guess that we only have around ten thousand witches and wizards in Great Britain in total."

Albus nodded. "Closer to fifteen actually, but many of them are simple people who would not fight in a war…and many more are old, infirm, or children."

"We need a way to redirect their port keys if they decide to invade…funnel them directly into a pack of dementors."

Albus flinched. "Vicious."

"So are they and I don't want them anywhere near my people."

Albus didn't comment further. "I have good news. Your friend Abraxas came while you were out. He is going to fund the grain project that you and I spoke of, so Grindelwald will have fewer reserves to call on."

Hermione smiled. "I assume he's going to funnel the aid though his grandmother?"

"Exactly so."

Tom pulled Hermione into his arms. "Albus, we need to sleep…do you mind?"

"Not at all. Rest. We will discuss the rest tomorrow."


	44. Chapter 44

_**AN: Happy Sunday! I hope everyone is having a great weekend. As I mentioned, I keep trying to figure out how long it will take me to tie up all the tangled plot twists in here…I'm going to be honest. I have no clue. I may have to take a break if I can't finish it before November. I REALLY want to do NANO this year. Anyone else planning to participate? Drop me a line if you are!**_

Hagrid was sobbing uncontrollably when they came down to breakfast the next day.

Hermione felt a rolling dread in her gut as she hurried toward him. She had a terrible feeling that she had overlooked something important.

Minerva was standing on the bench seat and awkwardly patting the larger boy's back, looking helpless.

Tom caught her eye, looking concerned, but Hermione only shook her head.

"Hagrid?" She touched his shoulder the way she would touch a newborn. "Hagrid, what's wrong?"

He lifted his head and his eyes were red. "My da." He put his face back on his hands. "He was killed."

A lump the size of an egg formed in Hermione's throat. "How?"

Tom conjured a cloth the size of a towel and the boy looked at him gratefully and he blew his nose. "He was meetin' with me mum. I dunno why. The Ministry man jus' said that he had arranged to see her, and she brought a giant with her. That bastard swatted me da like a fly. Broke every bone…" At this point Hagrid went back to sobbing uncontrollably.

Hermione sat down beside him, legs suddenly unable to hold her weight.

She'd forgotten.

Hagrid had mentioned it once…he'd told her and Harry about his family back in forth year. She'd been so focused on Grindelwald and smugly congratulating herself on making sure Hagrid was never expelled…

Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes. Tom's eyes widened as she hugged Hagrid and began to cry. She heard herself mutter "I'm so sorry…" Over and over, she couldn't seem to stop.

Albus arrived with a calming drought for Hagrid and watched Hermione's outburst with concern.

He seemed torn, unable to decide which student to see to first. Hermione pushed his hands away. "I'm fine. It was Hagrid that lost…" She couldn't finish.

Tom pulled her away from Hagrid. "I'll take care of her Sir, your hands are full."

Albus nodded absently as the potion took effect on the large boy. He grunted as he shouldered most of Hagrid's weight and slowly headed out of the Great Hall."

Tom's arm surrounded her. "Hermione? Come on."

She followed him blindly, allowing the tears to wash over her face, despite the stinging tracks they left.

How could she just forget?

Hagrid was supposed to be her friend. His father was important to him. What bloody good did it do to come back in time if she couldn't fix things?

Now Hagrid was an orphan too. What would he do without his father's support? Where would he even live?

"Sit." Tom's voice was firm and she obeyed without thinking. She felt a very cold rag press against the abused flew of her tear-soaked face.

They were in a girl's bathroom…

"Now tell me what happened because I'm not going to believe you if you try to play this off as nothing." He gave her a stern look. "And neither will Albus."

She held the rag to her face to stifle another sob.

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing for a moment. Deep breaths in, slowly pushing the air from her body.

When she felt like she could speak she didn't open her eyes. "Hagrid's father. I knew-I mean, I didn't know exactly when, or how, but I knew that he died early. I didn't even try…" He voice choked a little but she managed to get it out. "I didn't even try Tom. I was so busy trying to out-plot Grindelwald that I never gave it a thought. I didn't even think to warn anyone. And looking back, I should have known it would be this year."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Tom began rubbing those circles on her back again.

He pressed his long body into her back and whispered, "You made a mistake Hermione. Everyone makes them."

"When I make them, people die Tom."

She felt his lips press to her temple. "Sometimes." He cooled the rag again. It had gotten hot pressed to her face. "But how many have you saved Hermione?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. Other people might go through life and save one life, maybe two. And most of the time they are people who are close. I know you've saved a number of people, just from watching."

She shook her head. "Too many still die."

He kissed her cheek. "Where there is life there is hope. You've saved me, you saved Abraxas…hell, you might have even saved Dumbledore."

She shook her head. "He would have survived…"

"But it would have been different. If you hadn't picked up that doll another student might have done it. One with slower reflexes. You make a difference everywhere you go Hermione."

His eyes shone as he said the words, and she felt something ease in her heart. She still cried for a bit, but the tears lost some of their bitterness.

 **ADADAD**

Albus settled Hagrid into the Hospital wing and then went looking for Tom Riddle. "Tom my boy, do you have a moment?"

Tom was technically supposed to be going to another class, but they both knew he would write an excuse.

They sat down in his office and Albus started the tea with his wand. He could tell that Tom was less than pleased to be doing this right at this moment, but Albus needed to know if Hermione was cracking.

"What was that this morning? If the stress of spying…"

Tom cut him off angrily. "She saw something about Hagrid's father- she didn't have a date or a cause, or even know what happened. She spent the morning mentally flogging herself for 'forgetting'.

Albus could tell Tom was seething. "Why the hysterics?"

"Because she blames herself."

Albus flinched, knowing very well what that was like. But Tom wasn't finished. "She counts every single death she doesn't stop as her fault. She's not hysterical about spying on the most evil bastard to ever live. No, she is hysterical because she failed to stop an accidental death she barely knew about." The boy's eyes flashed. "She still feels like she should have stopped it somehow." His voice was rough. Albus held his shoulder for a long moment and let his hand drop.

Tom got up and started pacing. "What's going to happen to him?"

Albus sighed. He'd just been thinking about that himself. "He has no family to speak of. Wizarding courts won't give a half-giant child back to their giant parent. Too many of them die. They aren't strong enough to deal with the vicious infighting. I would like to place him with a wizarding family, but his heritage…makes it difficult." Albus sighed. "If it were safe I would take all three of you and adopt you myself…but Gellert…" Albus stopped. Showing too much interest in any of these children would get them killed. They were probably pushing the safe limits with the teas.

Tom didn't look put out. "Grindelwald's a sadistic bastard. And no offence, I don't want to be Hermione's brother legally. It would complicate things."

Albus shook his head. Tom was unique. "Language."

Tom gave him an incredulous look. He paced for a moment and then sighed. "Put him in Wool's orphanage with us."

"Ogg the gamekeeper might…"

"Hermione will want him with us. At least this way he won't be the only magical person in the orphanage. And when we graduate, we'll find a way to support him until he leaves Hogwarts."

Albus laughed. "I'm certain." Then he frowned. "I wish there was a better alternative. Our world needs a better place for orphans."

"Hermione says that too. She has the next fifty years planned out."

Albus sighed. "I don't like it. It's too exposed and…I fear Gellert. The fact that Hermione is spying 'for' him makes it even worse. I want her to end this before summer."

Tom nodded. "I hope we have enough information by then."

"I don't care if you do or if you have nothing at all. He will only play the suitor for a very short time. She needs to be away from him before he decides that he'd done waiting."

 **HGHGHG**

"I need to get the cloak for him."

Tom looked at her with wide eyes. "How…nevermind. Why?"

"Because it will distract him while we find out his numbers."

"And what if bringing all three of the hallows together really makes him the Master of Death, like in the story?"

"It won't. He can't truly be the rightful owner of the ring or the cloak. Those items will only truly be mastered by their bloodlines. Honestly, until the two Pervelle bloodlines merge and one of them defeats the master of the unbeatable wand, I don't think the Hallows will ever truly belong to one person."

Tom's lips thinned. "You don't think a direct descendant from either line would work?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Her mouth opened once…then twice. "Maybe. I don't think so. The cloak was always tied to the bloodline of the youngest brother."

Tom sighed. "That's something I know you didn't read in a book."

She shook her head and started pacing. "It's not. It's just something I've been thinking about for some time. Like fate is setting some cosmic trap." She tossed the ring to him. "Try it. See if the shades are any kinder to you. You are a direct descendant after all."

Tom put the ring on his finger and clicked the clever gold setting which allowed it to turn. Once he did, he found a number of curious-looking people were staring at him.

Hermione distracted him by placing a warm hand over his. "What do you see Tom?"

He looked around. "I don't recognize most of these people. There's a black-haired boy with a scar…" Hermione gasped. "He says you shouldn't be so transparent Hermione, he's not here to hurt me." He looked away from the empty space in front of him. "Why would he hurt me?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's my friend Harry. That's a curse scar from a very dark wizard. It looks like a lightning bolt, right?"

Tom nodded. He turned back to the blank space. "Why would you want to hurt me Harry?"

 **TMRTMRTMR**

The ghostly form of the boy smiled. He looked about Tom's age. It made Tom wonder if he was that much older than Hermione when he died. Had he loved her the way she loved him? Rage began building in his gut.

"I did love her. She was like my sister. She feels the same about me. We're connected in a way that most people aren't. And I am not here to harm you. She just worried that I might because I'm very protective of her and I don't know that you can be trusted."

"Hermione trusts me."

"Hermione can take care of herself, but she loves deeply. I worry that it will blind her. But I have to trust her. I'm locked here on this side until this plays out. If it works out for good, I don't know when you will see me. If you hurt her…" The boy's face lost all of its good humor and he seemed to grow, become more. His glowing green eyes sparkled with power. "Then you and I will meet. Not even death will stop me."

Another ghostly figure clapped the boy's shoulder. A tall thin man with sleek hair and a pronounced nose pulled him back. "Desist. Now is not the time for this." His voice was a rolling, living thing.

He turned his black eyes to Tom. "Be a true Slytherin Tom. Cunning and clever."

"Who are you?"

"A friend. Many lives ago we were great friends."

"Lives?"

"There are things in this world that you cannot yet grasp young wizard. Don't worry. Knowledge will come. Give the ring to your paramour. I have information she will need."

Tom took off the ring and rubbed his eyes. "He wants to speak with you."

"Harry?"

Tom nodded. "And someone else."

He didn't like how excited she was when she took the ring, but her face was stunned as she saw who was at the other side. "Sir!"

Her startled exclamation of respect made Tom snake a long arm around her. She seemed to listen to the man with the large nose for a long time.

"Yes sir. I understand. I will do as you say. Give my love…to everyone."

She pulled off the ring.

"Who was that?"

"Someone who once did what I am attempting to do."

"He…"

"Spied on a dark lord and helped bring him down. The man had made horocruxes and only Harry could kill him, but that man and others died to protect us when we were young and to help find the objects and destroy them. He was one of the bravest men I've ever met."

Tom frowned. "What did he want us to do?"

"He asked me to make certain that Grindelwald hadn't gotten the same idea. He thinks that he's using a modified elixir, and that's one of the reasons he needs his wars to continue. The elixir uses the hearts of those killed in battle as a base. It would explain how he manipulates crowds, they feel drawn toward him. It will even slow his ageing to a crawl."

"So he lets his own men die to provide him the potions ingredients he needs?"

Hermione nodded. "If what…the shade…suspects is true."

"You won't use his name?"

"No. He doesn't belong to that name anymore. And I think he will be reborn."

"Reborn?"

"Some people are."

Tom sat abruptly in a chair. "Some people?"

She nodded. "Some people. People you might know. People you will meet."

"Why?"

"Because there is more going on that a battle between two wizard factions and most people will never know. Dumbledore doesn't. Grindelwald doesn't. But they are being influenced, aided. We can't win by the death of one man, one idea. Another one will just rise to take its place."

She put her head on his shoulder. "I'm tired Tom."

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Then rest."

 **TMRTMR**

Fifty years in the future. She was planning to still be around, fighting this same war with different players. He looked at her as she slept, tucked into his side.

He'd always thought that he would follow her to hell and back, but he hadn't known she intended to make multiple trips.

He sighed and picked up a book. If she was determined to go, he needed to be prepared. He wasn't sure he believed her about this 'rebirth' business, though it did make sense when you considered Hermione.

He shook his head as she fell into a deeper sleep.

Either way, he needed to be at the top of his form. Especially if they were going to steak the cloak from some unnamed witch or wizard.

 **GGGGGG**

His little spy sent him an owl right before the last Hogsmead trip of the season.

 _Dear Aunt,_

 _I hope you are well. Things are rather slow here with end of term exams. I hope you don't think me cheeky when I admit they were less than riveting for me and Tom. Professor Binns is a walking cure for insomnia and Professor Merrythought has gone around the bend a bit. She isn't teaching anything useful. Tom has begun a dueling club so that we can discover the standard of the other students and perhaps make certain they pass their practical OWLS._

 _I think I know where I left your old cloak. If I'm right, I will bring it back home with me during the Christmas holos. Tom is staying with me at Hogwarts but we will be visiting other homes with Albus Dumbledore. He's been kind enough to escort us. Still, I expect to find to visit you on Christmas Eve. Please don't make a fuss. It will be a flying trip I'm afraid._

 _See you soon!_

 _H._

He chortled as he crushed the paper in his hands. Sergei looked at him uncomfortably.

"Good news my lord?"

He grinned. "The best. Hermione is coming home for Christmas Eve. I need to find gifts for my little…apprentice. She deserves the very best."

He noticed how the man's face didn't move, but he didn't care if any of these buffoons despised him. What could they do? They were bound to him.

 **AMAMAMAM**

Abraxas wasn't fond of the cold. He liked his creature comforts and he liked them more than nearly anything. The only exception to that rule was of course, the people he loved.

They were the reason he was waiting in this Merlin-forsaken forest.

A slight pop alerted him an instant before he felt the cool wood of a wand at his neck. "What did Helena Malfoy like best for breakfast as a child?"

"She liked to sleep through breakfast and drink the fresh milk instead; _before_ the cream was off if she got the chance." He turned around and saw the iron-grey eyes of his great grandmother.

His wand was pointed at her ribs. "What is her favorite color?"

"Green of course."

She gave him a cheerful smile and pulled him into a tight hug. "It's good to see you child."

He gave half of an embarrassed chuckle before he stopped himself. "Hardly a child Grandmother." He pulled out a small bag. She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look so underwhelmed. My friend Hermione did an undetectable extension charm on the bag and I shrank the supplies. There's enough here to get the entire country through the winter, even if we can't meet again."

Her face paled. "The expense…"

"Is nothing. I might have to sell the house in Paris to recoup. But it is far better than having all of those witches and wizards bonded to that murdering madman. Now when he calls, he'll only have a fraction of the forces he expects…if you can arrange delivery."

She nodded, almost wonderingly and cleared her throat. "We can. We will take our country back my love. And I will make certain they never forget who aided them in their time of need."

Abraxas blushed. "Please don't. It would ruin my reputation as a careless rake Grandmother…and you wouldn't do that to a fellow, would you?"

She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. "Silly boy! Of course I will embarrass you with truth. It's what grandmothers _do_."

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. He hugged her tiny body one last time. "Stay safe."

She grinned. "Watch out for yourself boy. I've cheated Death so often he doesn't even play with me anymore."


	45. Chapter 45

_**AN: I need to take a moment to tell you all how much I adore your wonderful, insightful reviews. The best part of writing fan fiction is the feedback.**_

Hermione moaned softly, though there was no chance anyone would hear her, not in the Room of Requirement.

Tom caressed her cheek with devastating gentleness as he kissed her neck. She clinched her jaw and held his hand; a silent plea for him to stop.

He chuckled, despite his flushed cheeks, but he stilled his lips and moved his body away from hers by a fraction of an inch. She tried to take a deep calming breath but her body shuddered as she gulped down the air.

She let out a ragged gasp as her heart rate slowed to something closer to normal. "Merlin Tom. Are you trying to kill me?"

He grinned, face full of that uniquely masculine pride that comes when a man knows that the object of his affections wants him as much (or more) than he wants her.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I would have to bring you back. Life without you would be intolerable."

She put her slightly sweaty forehead on his chest for a moment. She reminded herself of his age, and the age of the body she wore. It cooled her desire well enough when she wasn't looking into his eyes.

Sensing her mood, he rolled over on his back and wrapped a long arm around her, pulling her to his side.

He didn't ask about it. He'd always been good to sense when she had things she didn't want to say, and he had endless patience with her, especially for a teenage boy.

She put her curly head on his chest and sighed sadly. She didn't want to be a tease, but ever since the break began, he'd been testing the limits of their physical relationship. She needed to speak to him, but she couldn't deny that his sneak attacks were enjoyable…right up until the time when she pushed away. It irritated her a bit to have to be the responsible one when her body wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace the inevitability of their convergence.

Instead she rolled onto her shoulder and kissed his freshly-shaved cheek. Her eyes narrowed. He might want her to think his sensual siege on her body was due to the heat of the moment, but the second she felt the baby-softness of his freshly shaved face, she knew it was a well-planned strike. He knew how much she loved running her lips along his smooth cheeks.

"Tom, we need to talk."

His eyes darkened slightly. "About?"

"I need you to understand…my mind hasn't changed just because you are devastatingly attractive. I don't want to go forward until we are both of age at least…I'd rather wait until we are out of school."

He sighed. "I didn't _ask_ you to go further…"

"No, but it's hard…" She blushed and rolled her eyes at herself. Merlin, why was this so difficult? "This just makes it harder to say 'no'. My mind turns to mush when you do that, and we're both…" She didn't finish her sentence because his eyes lit up again.

He put his hands on her face and kissed her deeply. "Both huh?"

"You expect me to remain unaffected?"

"I haven't even touched you in any of the places I'm not supposed to." He looked absolutely chuffed.

"As if that has anything to do with it! All it takes is your mouth on mine and those slow kisses, and I'm suddenly not able to concentrate." His grin was too wide, and his eyes looked like they were lit from the inside. "I'm serious Tom."

He sighed, but his face didn't lose the glow. "I know it might be wrong, but I love that I affect you. I need you to feel the same consuming desire for me that I feel for you."

She couldn't help herself. She leaned over and kissed his lips. "Don't doubt it."

She chuckled to herself.

Tom looked at her indulgently. "What?"

"It's supposed to be the boy complaining, not the other way around."

"We're still stereotypical when you think about it. It wouldn't take much persuasion on your part to get me to go all the way, so you can put your mind at ease." He whispered. "I won't ask for more. Don't deny me this. I need to feel you close."

She closed her eyes for a long moment. "If you are ok with it, I suppose I can be too." She'd just have to resign herself to cold showers for the next two years. Then again, as she kissed the expanse of his cheek, she found she didn't mind.

 **TMRTMR**

He could tell that she wasn't going to change her mind. He could bring those sweet sighs from her lips when he touched her, but she wasn't moved…not enough. In truth he saw the sense of what she was trying to say, at least intellectually. But intellect had nothing to do with his feelings on the matter. She insisted on being ruled by her head; he wanted to let his body and his feelings overwhelm them both. There was a churning ocean of emotion that had risen within him. It must have been thee his entire life, but it had been buried. Now he felt as if he was floating on it, and dry land was a distant dream. He wanted nothing more than to dive into those depths with her and never emerge.

Still, she wasn't saying no. She simply wanted to wait. He kept trying to tell himself that was wise.

His heart didn't know or care what wisdom was.

So he changed the subject. "We'd better get going. Hagrid is supposed to come with us to dinner and we need to meet Minerva at Gryffindor tower to make sure he comes. He's missing too many meals."

Hermione nodded and gathered her things. He knew that she was worried for the large boy. It was easy to see why. Despite his size, he wore every emotion on his sleeve. His grief for his father was as plain on his face as his adoration for Minerva McGonagall. Such a Gryffindor!

Then he stopped as he picked up his books. Wasn't that what he wanted to do with Hermione? Allow the emotions to flow freely without restraint?

Hermione looked at him curiously. He could feel her mind dip into what he'd come to think of as his 'public mind'. He quickly hid the rolling waves of emotion that threatened to pull them both under and focused on his worry for their large classmate. He cursed himself under his breath. She'd almost caught him.

They walked through the empty halls silently, both immersed in their own thoughts.

When they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, Tom knew that they were right to have worried. Minerva was arguing through the portrait hole with one hand on her thin hip.

"Because I said so you great lump, that's why! I won't sit by and watch ye turn into a sack of over-sized bones!"

Tom pulled the younger girl away from the portrait gently. "Hagrid, come out. We need to go to dinner. Hermione won't go if you don't. If you don't come out yourself, I'll levitate you down and let Minerva feet you haggis."

A bleary-eyed boy stuck his head out of the common room. "That's dirty Quidditch Tom."

Tom smirked. "But it worked."

Hagrid was wearing an under-sized jumper that had probably been meant for a full grown man. Tom sighed and enlarged it with a silent spell. "There, at least the yarn isn't in danger of popping any moment."

He put a firm hand on the other boy's back and the group made their way to the dining hall.

Since the holidays had begun, none of the remaining students bothered to sit at their own tables. Tom and Hermione sat on one side of the table while Minerva and Hagrid took the other.

When the other boy just stared at his plate mournfully, Minerva slapped his arm. "Don't think I won't feed you some of this haggis! You know there's nothing better for a growing lad than organ meat!"

Hagrid pulled a face and hastily filled his plate with a respectable serving of roast duck.

Minerva seemed content with this and turned to Hermione. "So, the two of you aren't going to the Malfoy's for the holiday?"

Tom answered with a polite lie. "His wife is having a difficult time during her pregnancy." Or perhaps it was stretching the truth more than a lie…she certainly was having a difficult time. Abraxas was refusing to allow her to leave her spacious rooms until the baby was born. She'd plotted to kill him, and he wasn't going to give her another chance.

"So you'll be here with us?" Her voice sounded positively chipper.

"Professor Dumbledore does have a few things he wants us to do. He's trying to introduce us to people who will be helpful to us later on…" Hermione's explanation made Hagrid's eyes close in pain.

Hermione reached over and patted his hand. "Don't worry. Tom spoke with the professor. He's going to arrange for you to come with Tom and I to Wool's orphanage over the summer. It's awful." She made a face. "But at least we will be together."

Hagrid nodded miserably. "Professor Dumbledore mighta' mentioned it."

Tom slid the treacle tart closer to Hagrid. "It was a lot to take in. Don't worry. Hermione and I graduate in three years. Once we do…"

He looked forlorn. "I'll be there alone."

Hermione huffed. "Don't be silly! Once we have a steady stream of income, you'll come to live with us."

Hagrid's eyes widened. "But…"

Tom took a drink of his pumpkin juice and patted his lips dry. "You'd don't think we'd _leave_ you there? We're not monsters."

"But…"

Hermione patted his hand. "You are our friend Hagrid. We're already working on plans to make our way."

Tom smirked. "Patents, that kind of thing." If it eased the unnecessary guilt she felt over not saving the father, it was well worth it to help Hagrid.

Hermione nodded. "And if something happens to us, I'm certain Professor Dumbledore will take care of you."

Tom leaned in. "He said he would have adopted all of us if Grindelwald wasn't such a threat." He leaned back and put an arm around Hermione. "Of course, I'm not keen on that idea. I can't have this one as a sister after all."

Minerva giggled. Hagrid looked a little less lost. Hermione put her head on his shoulder. Tom sighed contentedly. The night loomed ahead, but in this moment, life was perfect.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas sighed as Helga glared at him from her settee.

"We are hosting a Christmas party and I can't even attend?"

He pasted his most charming smile on his face and took a sip of his tea. "Well, darling, you _did_ plan to murder me."

"You have no proof of that."

He felt his eyes chill. "I suppose not. But then, if I were to dig into the death of your brother, there would be some proof I imagine. And I'm not inclined to wait until you actually make an attempt my dear."

She flounced up and stomped her dainty foot. "I am not a possession Abraxas."

"No, at the moment you are a prisoner. One who is in fact, guilty of one murder and who was planning another. And I'll remind you that you are considerably better off here than in Azkaban. If you behave, we can come to an arrangement once the child is born. If not, then you can remain locked in your rooms."

Her movements still and for a short moment, he saw the true Helga. "You are treating me like a brood mare, you beast. And you wonder why I want to kill you?"

He looked at her face. She really ought to move him to some kind of emotion. He couldn't muster enough indignation to even feel angry at her; not after the wedding night. Consensual or not, that night remained one of his most shameful moments. His own guilt didn't absolve her from the consequences of her actions, but it made him feel much less inclined to be the one to toss the first stone.

He couldn't blame her for wanting to kill him after that night.

And he certainly didn't blame her for the infidelity.

He _could_ feel something about her allowing that French bastard into her bed, but only because it put people he actually cared about in danger. Her plan to kill him didn't bother him nearly as much. But looking into her lovely eyes, the only thing he felt was weariness. He longed to be done with his sham of a marriage. He tried to remind himself she must feel the same.

"It isn't right. I know it isn't. You and I should have never married and we both know it. It's a despicable way for a society to ensure its survival. But you and I can't change what was. I can only work to make things better for the son you carry. Once that child is born, you can either aid me or leave."

He set the tea down and walked out of her rooms. He heard the unmistakable sound of a two-hundred year old tea set breaking against the door as he walked out.

He sighed and joined his mother in her favorite sitting room.

Helena looked up from her writing desk as he walked in. "I suppose Helga wanted to come to the Christmas ball?"

Abraxas nodded. "She doesn't quite realize the precariousness of her position."

Helena's quill stilled. "I hope you aren't planning to allow anything unpleasant to happen to the witch. Her family is still very well connected."

"I wonder how protective they would feel about her if her crime against her own brother was revealed."

"That might change their minds about her, but it would never change their minds about you if you harmed her."

Abraxas sighed. "I actually don't plan any ill for her, not unless she tries to harm myself or the child."

Helena's eyes widened. "You worry she might hurt the child? Why?"

"Just to spite me or because she's a bit mad? I do not trust her."

"Nor should you my son." Helena sighed deeply. "I apologize. I wasn't wrong about the threat from your cousins, but I think we may have brought a more difficult problem into our household."

"I intend to offer to send her to the isle of Sappho. Or to divorce her and give her a large stipend."

"You should divorce her either way."

Abraxas shrugged. "It doesn't matter mother. I doubt I will marry again." He golden head bowed. "I can't imagine doing this twice."

"This is nothing like what a marriage should be my son."

He smiled sadly. "I have no idea how to make a marriage work properly mother. I think I should avoid the whole business and focus on funding a counter-revolution and keeping up appearances at home. I find that I'm rather good at fomenting rebellion."

Helena laughed. "You get that from my side of the family."

Abraxas kissed his mother's cheek. "You should think about remarrying yourself."

"And why would I do that?"

"So you can experience the joys of a real marriage?"

"I think I'll have enough joy with my new grandson, though I wouldn't say no if you decided to wed another girl and provide me with a few other blond grandchildren."

"The curse…"

"Can be broken. Even if you yourself don't do it, if you marry a powerful witch, you could have a daughter."

Abraxas sighed. "I will consider it. Merlin knows that both Helga and myself will be happier once we are parted." He took a sip of his tea. "She's a vicious thing, but I can't blame her."

Helga frowned. "I can. She would have taken your life, and not because she was afraid of you or because she had to…she would have done it because it made her life easier." He thought he saw his mother flinch at bit, but he held his tongue.

Abraxas continued. "In any case, I won't have her at the ball. I had to invite that thrice-damned Jean Marie Bassett, but I won't give him an ally in my own home."

"Is the chit still enamored of him?"

Abraxas shrugged. "I don't know. She and I haven't exactly had any hear to hearts since I informed her that her freedoms were being curtailed."

Helena sighed. "I think that offering her a place in Greece would set my mind at ease. Do you think she will want to visit the baby?"

Abraxas shrugged. "If she does, she'll have to submit to a legilimens reading her thoughts or verataserum. I'm not inclined to put my child at risk."

He pulled out a small golden pocket watch and cursed. "I must be off Mother. Tom and Hermione are expecting me."

Helena's golden brow quirked. "Oh? Is this about the so-secret meeting you've been arranging for them? I assume it's something concerning Grindelwald?"

He gave her a mischievous wink. "I'll tell you all about it when this is over mother."

"I look forward to hearing the entire tale my son."

 **ADADADAD**

Albus appeared in the common room of the Slytherin dorms at the set time. Tom was waiting and Hermione appeared from the girl's dorm seconds later.

He looked them over. She was wearing navy robes that must have been a gift from Helena Malfoy. They made her look much older than her actual years and incredibly sophisticated. She carried herself with an air of confidence that people would respond to.

Tom's robes were black and the cut severe, which brought attention to his face.

"You look well. I hope your first plan works Hermione."

She shrugged. "I do too. I don't want to move on to plan B."

Albus wasn't precisely certain what Plan B was, and he didn't ask. It was understood that if this plan didn't work, that he would not be involved.

"I suggest a strong disillusionment charm."

He nodded as both children performed the tricky charm perfectly. Even he'd waited until his sixth year to learn it.

He led them through the empty halls, out past the gate and clutched both of their arms as he envisioned their destination.

The Leaky Cauldron was the same as ever. He walked in, waved at Tom who was busy behind the bar, and climbed the stairs to a private room where two people waited.

Abraxas Malfoy was drinking a very fine sniffer of brandy while the dark-haired man beside him was ruffling his messy hair and nursing a dark stout.

"Charlus! I'm so glad that you could make it my boy."

Charlus Potter stood and shook Albus' hand jovially. "Professor! I'm glad to be here, though I must say I was a bit surprised."

"You were one of my favorite students in your year Mr. Potter."

Charlus ran fingers through his hair; the action did nothing at all to smooth his locks. "I doubt you called me here to chat sir."

"Excellent deduction. If you were guessing, Mr. Potter, what would you assume the our topic of discussion would be? What brought you out on this chilly night so close to Christmas?"

He blushed. "I assume you have need of me this upcoming nastiness with Grindelwald."

Albus nodded. "I'll need your wand oath, Mr. Potter, that what I'm about to reveal to you does not go beyond this room."

Charlus nodded and quickly gave his oath.

Albus grinned. "I want to introduce you to two exceptional students of mine." With that, Hermione and Tom removed their charms, appearing out of thin air. Charlus jumped slightly, but then he grinned. "That was bloody brilliant. They were so quiet, and the charms were perfect. Excellent job sir!"

"I did not cast those charms Mr. Potter. Miss Granger and Mr. Riddle cast them. As I said, they are rather exceptional."

"I see!" He stuck out his hand to Tom, blue eyes twinkling. "Charlus Potter, at your service."

Tom took the hand and shook it. "Tom Riddle. It's a pleasure Mr. Potter."

"Oh call, me Charlus. I'm only a few years ahead of you after all." He turned to Hermione and bowed over her hand. "You must be a seventh year?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Fifth."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Girls weren't that pretty in fifth year when I was at Hogwarts."

Albus interrupted before Tom hexed Charlus. "Miss Granger is actually rather more exceptional that most students. She has a gift. She's a seer."

Charlus twinkled at her again. "Really?"

Tom moved up and placed his hand on her waist possessively and Abraxas laughed. "You and I are out of luck old boy. Miss Granger has been inseparable from Mr. Riddle there since first year."

Hermione laughed at Abraxas. "You are a horrible tease Abraxas."

The blond gave her a mocking salute and continued drinking his brandy.

Albus cleared his throat. "There are two things about Miss Granger's sight that make this situation unique. She can change her visions and she has agreed to act as a spy against Gellert Grindelwald."

All the playfulness left Charlus' demeanor. "What? But she's a child!"

Abraxas snorted. "The twinkle in your eye said you thought otherwise a few moments ago." Potter gave his friend a very unfriendly look.

Hermione shrugged. "Grindelwald discovered my gift and tried to acquire me. I was able to turn an attempted kidnapping into an opportunity."

"But…"

Hermione held up a hand. "I'm playing a deep game with a dangerous wizard Mr. Potter."

He shook his head. "Call me Charlus. My father is Mr. Potter."

Hermione nodded. "You know that Grindelwald has been searching for the Deathly Hallows?"

Charlus' eyes narrowed. "I'm aware. My father is of the opinion that he stole the Elder wand from a wand maker in Russia years ago, before his meteoric rise began."

"Your father is correct. And Hermione is currently in possession of the resurrection stone."

The young man's lips thinned. "I see." He turned to Albus. "How long have you known?"

Albus shook his head. "I didn't. Miss Granger told me."

Charlus Potter's eyes went to the young witch. "And how do you know?"

She sighed. "I had a vision of your grandson using it."

His eyes widened. "Really? I'm not even married yet."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not going to tell you too much. If you take the path I saw your grandson will be rather exceptional. But just seeing it seems to change things sometimes."

Charlus chuckled. "So you need the cloak?"

Hermione blinked. "You are taking this rather well."

He shrugged. "I didn't say I'd lend it to you. I just asked if you needed it. But when wizards who are fighting a war ask…it might be best to aid them. Don't think my family hasn't discussed what would happen if Grindelwald found out we had the cloak. None of us have illusions that he'd ask nicely for it."

Hermione's eyes turned down. "No. If I'd told him about it, you'd be dead. But in order to maintain my position and try to end this war quicker, I need to bring him the cloak."

Charlus nodded. "I understand your position. But this cloak…I don't know if you know how special it is."

Hermione had the strangest grin on her face. "I know exactly how special it is."

Charlus' eyes roamed the room, until they landed on Hermione's wand.

"I don't believe it."

She looked up. "What? My wand?"

"I know that wand. It belonged to my grandmother on my mother's side."

Hermione nodded. "So you are related to the Ollivanders as well?"

He grinned. "We're an inbred lot." He held out his hand. "May I?"

She frowned, but she placed the wand in his hand.

"My grandmother wasn't the first witch to wield it of course. She claimed that it was older than Merlin himself. Something that passed down. Rowena Ravenclaw used it in her youth, but she passed it on to one of her students. The wards at Hogwarts were cast using it and Slytherin's staff."

He handed it back to her.

"I don't know why, but I know I can trust you. It's not just the wand you hold or the company that you keep." He took a small pouch out of his pocket and pulled the cloak out. He gave her a small bow as he handed it to her. "Anyone can use the cloak, but it is linked to our bloodline. It will never protect others as it does the family that it belongs to."

She ran her hand over it and the material fluttered with no breeze. Charlus' eyes widened.

"Thank you."

Potter gave her a cheeky grin. "Just use it to save the world."

Albus narrowed his eyes as she laughed. He could have sworn he heard her say "I always do."


	46. Chapter 46

_**AN: I am so sorry I didn't give all of you a proper note or anything when I took for NANO. I thought I'd mentioned that I was doing it for sure, and I guess I edited that note and forgot. Because I feel terribly guilty, I typed out this bit that I was going to edit out from the next chapter…it's a cute scene, but doesn't move the story forward and the next chapter has a lot of action.**_

 _ **On the other hand, Fred and George fluff is always a good way to apologize. I will update with a full chapter on Sunday!**_

Hermione fiddled with the ring before unlocking the catch that allowed her to flip it while still in the setting. She'd found that flipping the stone allowed the wearer a bit of power…simply wearing it seemed to allow the spirits to some and go as they chose, which was a bit frustrating, especially as she seemed to draw people who hadn't even lived yet. Last week she'd had several hours of hearing Percy Weasley pontificate about the excellent cauldron thicknesses available during the 1930's. She hadn't even been able to get away when she went to the loo!

When she turned the stone she heard two very welcome voices.

"And what mischief is our Miss Granger planning tonight?"

Identical (if somewhat insubstantial) heads leaned over her shoulders. She covered her own mouth to keep from squealing in delight and hurriedly cast charms at the door. The Goyle twins were staying for break because their mother was in a mood (meaning she'd caught her husband cheating and she was currently being bribed with a lovely vacation in Nice). Generally the Goyle girls were too dumb to be much of a bother, but Hermione didn't need the two dimwits spreading rumors about her talking to herself.

She took a deep breath and turned to the red heads with a grin that threatened to split her face.

A wicked grin lit the faces of the Weasley twins. She had to hug her arms around her own body to keep from wrapping them around the shades. "About time you called for us 'Mione."

She rolled her eyes. 'You know I always hated that nick-name Gred."

"Oi! Woman, can't you tell? I'm Forge, that's Gred."

She looked closer, itching to wrap her arms around the boy. Fred Weasley had died at the Battle of Hogwarts in the original timeline. "It's good to see you."

"And what about me?" George beamed, laughter dancing in his eyes.

She smirked. "You, in this case, was meant as a plural, which you very well know Mr. Weasley." She gave him a mock-glare and the three of them broke into uncontrollable laughter the next second. "Oh, I have missed you!"

George smiled down at her. "Always with the tone of surprise."

Fred waggled his eyebrows at her. "We've missed you too. Now what mischievous business caused you to call us?"

George grinned. "Do you need a proper prank to put a problem in his place?"

"A nasty ruse to reeducate a reprobate?" Fred looked positively hopeful.

She paused, considering what she was about to face. "Actually, I think I just needed to remember why I'm doing this. We're facing Grindelwald tonight and…I'm afraid. I think he's more likely to kill me tonight, or try to force me into something that will end with me getting killed…or worse…"

"Expelled?" The twins were obviously attempting to cheer her up.

She shook her head, but refused to allow them to lighten the mood. "What if he can change me? Turn me into something…like him? What if he has the right words? Or if not me, what about Tom? We're risking so much more than our lives, and it all was crashing into b=me…because tonight we're giving him the third hallow, just so I can remain a spy, so we have a chance of slowing him down until Dumbledore can defeat him."

Fred moved to take her hand, then stopped himself, seeming to remember that he didn't actually have a body. "Hermione Granger? Go over to the dark? It would be easier to make the sun rise in the west."

She sighed. "I guess I really did need to see you two."

Fred bent his knees slightly so he could look her directly in the eye. "Don't worry 'Mione. As long as you never let anything change you from the brilliant, strong, and slightly vindictive witch we all know and love, you'll be golden."

"Oi! Gred, don't hog all of our time with her!"

Fred laughed at his twin. "Too late! I can feel the pull from the other side. We have to get a move on. Tossers limit out time here when we are called. And you, Miss Granger, are late! Don't keep that wanker Tom waiting…" He whispered in her ear. "I don't give a damn if he isn't going to be a dark lord, he's not good enough for our girl." Then, with a merry wink, Fred caught George in a headlock and disappeared.

She felt an unaccountable wetness on her cheeks and found, much to her surprise, she was crying.

She lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. She tossed a smile back to the wall where the twins had disappeared and strode out of the room.


	47. Chapter 47

_**AN: Time to mention again that this one is rated M for a reason.**_

 _ **Again, I apologize for leaving all of you without proper notice. I really did think I had included that note somewhere. Alas…my copy editing skills leave something to be desired. For everyone who asked: Nano was excellent. I used the time to edit my next book instead of writing, but it was necessary, and I'm fairly pleased with the way it turned out. I'm not posting details because honestly, I've found there isn't a lot of crossover between fans of my fanfiction and fans of my original work. Which is fine. I write here because my original stuff is all PG rated…PG-13 at most…my daughter reads my original work and it has to be alright for a fourteen year old. But mommy needs a little time to write for grown-ups too, and thus my fanfiction account was born!**_

 _ **Updates will resume the normal Sunday schedule. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter. I will see all of you next week! (Hopefully)**_

Albus was pacing and he smelled strongly of healing ointment. Hermione also noticed that his nails were bitten to bloody nubs. She sighed. If she had realized in her first life the mountain of anxiety he labored under, she would have liked and admired him more, and blindly trusted him less.

Tom sent her a look that begged her to 'fix' the slight issue of their only lifeline at Hogwarts having a nervous breakdown just when they might need a conveniently timed rescue. She put a comforting hand over Albus', careful to avoid the nails…he'd heal them, but there was no reason to cause him more pain than was absolutely necessary.

"We'll be back as soon as he releases us."

Albus nodded, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"I wouldn't take Tom if I was truly worried. It's far too early in the game for him to do us harm. We're still in the honeymoon phase."

Albus grimaced. "Be that as it may, you have portkeys. Use them if anything feels off. The sooner you can get us the numbers on his army, the better." He lifted his hand to his mouth and lowered it. She'd never seen him this nervous. She pulled his cold fingers into her warm hand.

"Don't worry Albus."

He snorted. "For a bright girl you are rather dense my dear. Of course I'll worry. I told you, I _know_ Gellert."

She nodded and pulled Tom into the floo down to a Private room in Hogsmead. Hermione had arranged it by owl so they would have a safe place to port in and out of. No need to make the thing difficult, especially not when Gellert himself was footing the bill.

They clambered out of the floo and Hermione adjusted her robes.

They were black and silver, and the symbol of the hallows was worked clearly into the design with tiny, perfect embroidery stitches.

She hated them. They had arrived a week before along with a vault at Gringots. The note said 'To my darling daughter…"

She wished she'd never allowed that lie. She had always avoided lying, at least as much as she could. Trying to force Grindelwald to give her a modicum of protection when she was with him had only complicated things unnecessarily…not to mention It proved how incredibly creepy the man could be.

The note had been written by Gellert's own hand. It was sloppy, sending his own signature to someone close to Albus. It was almost as If he wanted Albus to capture her…perhaps to give him reason to come storming in? She shook her head as she dusted off the last of the soot with her wand. Grindelwald was not as mad as he had been when he wore the resurrection stone, but that didn't make him sane.

Tom was frowning at her. "I don't like that he decided to send you something meant to be worn against your skin." His fingers traveled over her arm, and even through the sleeve she shivered and it had nothing at all to do with fear.

She turned away from the mirror and smiled up at him. "I checked it before I put it on. No jinxes, hexes, or curses."

He nipped her bottom lip. "Hmmm. What else did you check for?"

"Traps, listening spells, poison, a portkey…" Tom laughed and kissed her fully.

"I concede. I suppose you will be safe enough." He wrapped her in the protective cloak he'd made and slung a second with identical charms around himself.

She nodded, suddenly putting away her playful mood. "We will be."

She held out the sock that was the permanent portkey. Tom offered her his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"

 **TMRTMR**

The robes fit Hermione perfectly, and that disturbed Tom more than anything. It took a very observant man to gather someone's measurements without their knowledge, and it implied that he had focused on her figure more than a little. Hermione had countered the imposing but distinctly feminine cut of the robes by braiding her hair into a complicated series that kept it completely off of her face in case she needed to fight. In Tom's opinion, she looked every inch the princess, but he knew the trained warlocks in Gellert's inner circle would notice her arm sheath and hair and they would wonder about her skill.

Tom smoothed his own collar. Gellert hadn't sent him a robe. He was wearing a beautifully cut black set that Helena had given him last year. The lack of the gift bothered him not at all, but he found the fact that Gellert knew the distance around Hermione's hips very disturbing.

Portkeys were a bit nauseating, but they couldn't apparate across continents. Magical travel was monitored by each government. No one wanted a witch or wizard sneaking into their borders…of course, Gellert had circumvented that neatly.

Tom cleared his mind of all of that and offered Hermione his arm.

Gellert's lieutenant Sergei was waiting for them when they appeared. The man nodded politely to Tom and offered Hermione his arm. Tom tried to give her up with some semblance of grace.

Tom followed a half step behind, and Sergei made no move to lower his voice as he spoke.

"Our Lord is very excited my lady." Tom frowned behind them as he shamelessly eavesdropped. He could tell from the set of Hermione's shoulders she was wary.

Sergei patted her arm as you would a small nervous dog. "He has ordered that you shall be treated in all ways as his heir my lady. It's an honor he has never extended. The empire is rejoicing that he has protected it by providing an heir, and one such as yourself, with sight to lead us, if Merlin forbid, he should ever cross the veil."

Hermione murmured something about the honor of it all, and Sergei stopped in the hall. Tom had to listen very hard to catch the next words.

"Lady, it would be unwise to disappoint him in any way. Those he showers with attention often do, and they find themselves out of his favor. I only say this because I have never seen him so pleased with any man or woman."

Hermione wisely didn't comment. She only nodded shyly. Tom's expression didn't change, but inside he was hiding a grin.

Sergei obviously wanted to be part of the heir's inner circle if that could be accomplished without endangering his place with the reigning monarch. Interesting…Tom wondered if Gellert really was taking some kind of youth potion.

The large man allowed Hermione to set the pace as they traveled through the castle. She was by far the shortest of the three. She took three steps for every normal stride he made.

Quickly enough they came to a dark set of doors with some very complicated wards. Hermione pulled an ornate box from the pocket of her robes, a pocket to which she must have added one of her handy extendable charms. Tom turned his attention to Gellert's wards, and he inspected them with admiration as Sergei waved his wand with careless east to dismantle them so the trio could pass. "My lord wishes to test his people. You will learn the warding spells too young ones. Watch carefully and learn quickly. His ire is not something you wish to be on the receiving end of."

With that last warning, the doors opened and they were led into the Great Hall. It was bursting with colorful banners and wizards in various military uniforms. It was all very bright, with the brilliant colors of their coats and the occasional outrageous set of robes on either a witch or wizard. There were more men than women, but they were all neat and behaved with a certain decorum, despite the fact that the wine flowed freely and some were obviously well into their cups.

Sergei fell back into step with Tom as they acted as an honor guard for Hermione. Her back was ramrod straight as she marched through the parting ocean of wizards with the box in her hands. As Grindelwald came into view, Tom could see that he was grinning like a lunatic.

He rose as they neared, as _she_ neared…and Tom felt a flash of jealousy that would burn the world if it wasn't contained in his heart. This man had everything. A bloody empire at his disposal, no need to walk carefully. If Hermione had loved him, she could have wed him that moment and his power and wealth would have kept her safe…if Grindelwald himself wasn't the surest danger.

Nothing showed on his face, but something might have been stirring in his eyes because Gellert's eyes flicked from Hermione to Tom for a second. Grindelwald lifted his glass, lunatic grin firmly in place. "My heir." Glasses raised in salute but the faces and bodies in the inner circle betrayed little joy. Most showed signs of stress, a fair number were jealous, and at least one was vastly relived. There were also a few sly, gleeful looks from the out rings of guests…men and women who followed the orders of Gellert's lackeys. Something made them smile with bared teeth and vengeful glee.

Hermione did not bow, but she inclined her head gracefully. Grindelwald offered her his hand and helped her up the three steps to the dais where his throne sat. "My heir has accomplished in mere months what my most trusted followers have failed to do in years. She has restored the birthright of our family. As most of you, my most trusted companions know, I hold the elder wand, the deathstick. In vain have I sought the rest of our legacy, the Deathly Hallows! The symbol for out great movement was always the sign of a hallows quest." He drew the triangular symbol in the air in fire.

Most of the heads nodded. They knew this much. Gellert lifted Hermione's hand and turned it for all to see. "First, she gave me the location of the resurrection stone of legend. I retrieved it and put it on her finger as a reward." He opened the ornate box and tossed the cloak around himself as the audience gasped. "And now she brings me the cloak."

He removed it and folded it gently back into the box, snapping the catch closed.

"Tonight, I am master of death. And my heir is its mistress." His voice was suddenly cold. "The hallows are united."

He waved his wand and a number of squirming bundles floated into the room. "There is only one way to celebrate." He grinned as the coverings were ripped off of the bundles and dozens of naked men and women dropped at the feet of his elite followers. "Tonight, we celebrate death." Everyone blinked up at Gellert for a moment. He settled into his throne. "Well? Don't you appreciate my gifts? Don't you want to celebrate death?"

A cruel chuckled erupted in the room and the lights from spells began to fall on the naked victims. Two bundles sat covered on the dais.

"My heir." Gellert flicked his wand. A clothed Jean Marie Bassett was uncovered. His face was turned down. Gellert gave the same lazy flick of his wand. The other bundle also held a covered figure. The ex-professor Lestrange was gagged and her eyes were full of fire. "And a little something for Tom as well."

Tom turned from the scene below them. The spells had quickly turned from torture to rape and he felt bile rising in his throat. Hermione's eyes were glassy, but her face revealed nothing.

Gellert grinned at both of them like he'd just bought them the best gift a child could hope for on Christmas.

"Now I know both of you are within your rights to kill either of them, but I ask that you do not. A little mild torture to remind them where their place in the hierarchy."

Tom wished he hadn't eaten. He felt his breakfast try to rise up his throat and he ruthlessly swallowed it down.

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert looked around the hall at the glorious chaos and death. He heard his heir whisper something to her young knight and she began torturing Bassett with something that made the man scream loud enough so that Gellert muffled his ears. Most of the others had used silencing charms, but to some people, the screams were part of the enjoyment. Who was he to deny her?

Tom was watching the periphery of the crowd and keeping his focus on Hermione as his spell held Lestrange pinioned to the floor. The potion the children had used was making her vomit uncontrollably but she was on her side and was in no danger of dying from it. Tom barely seemed to notice. Jean Marie had moved from screams to whimpers now and he was curled into a ball like the pathetic waste of magic that he was.

Gellert moved over to Tom. "I didn't mean that you couldn't have any fun with her boy."

He looked him in the eyes and shrugged. "Hermione says that she is not to be damaged. She's supposed to have another son."

So that had been what she whispered to him. Fascinating.

Gellert surveyed the floor. "Well you could join the throng if you wish. There isn't much sport left to be had with them…" In fact the hall was beginning to have that charnel house smell that he didn't care for. "You could probably still wet your wick in one of the ones that are still alive."

The boy's control was admirable, but Gellert could tell he found the whole idea repugnant. Ah well. No one was perfect. Albus had always flinched at the idea of rape as well. It was one of his flaws.

Tom broke his line of thought. "If you don't mind sir, I think I'd rather keep an eye on her." He nodded to Hermione and used his wand to remove the vomit (and the corresponding stench) from the dais.

Gellert clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. "She's safe enough here among my most loyal followers."

Tom didn't look convinced and Sergei, who was notorious for watching Gellert's back during times like this stepped forward. "It does her no harm to have her own loyal guard who will not be distracted my lord."

Gellert frowned. "I thought you have wands ready in case of attack?"

"I trust them with my life and with even yours on the matter of attacks from the outside my lord. With your heir, we must begin to look at attacks from inside. One never knows which wand might be slower or less ruthless when turning on a friend or another man who has stood at one's side during battle. I say we train the boy since he is already loyal. It is easier to teach him magic than to teach loyalty."

Gellert nodded. "You'll find this one very easy to teach my friend." He grinned at Tom. "See if you can teach him how to woo a willing witch while you are at it. Even the most loyal guards have needs."

The boy didn't look happy about that last bit, but Hermione happened to finish with Jean Marie about that time. She looked perfectly indifferent about his state. The Frenchman was covered in sweat and piss…apparently his bladder had given way during torture. The girl shot a quick cleaning spell at him. "I'm going to oblivate the memory of me doing this."

"Why? I want him to be afraid of you my dear. He had objections when I mentioned my plan to make you my heir."

She shrugged. "I will have to meet him in England during parties. I can't have him flinching. I'll leave the fear but make it nebulous."

Gellert grinned. "You are that good with your memory spells?"

The girl gave him a grin that was a little too wide. "I'm very good with this spell."

He nodded as she shot a white mist at the unconscious man's head and healing spells at his body.

He looked out into the chaos again.

He had an heir. His people couldn't whisper about his obsession with the hallows anymore either.

He turned to Hermione. "Turn the stone. I want them to see what it can do."

She frowned. "How will they see?"

He chortled like a school boy. "I've been working on a spell for that."

She did as he commanded. He pulled at the wards and used them to remove the dead and dying bodies. He used the decomposing corpses as a secondary heat source in the castle's bowls…well the bits he didn't use in potions. There were clever metal tanks in the dungeons that one of his men had designed.

He grinned as his people used spells to return to a semblance of the refined ladies and gentlemen they'd been before he put prey in front of them. He'd wanted Hermione to see them…see what they became with just a little nudge. They were animals, the kind that would turn on their own species viciously with little notice. It was something that his heir should know. He was rather pleased with the children. They had done as he asked, but they never lost focus. He appreciated that last trait since he tended to lose time when he was torturing someone.

He pointed his wand at Hermione and she smiled calmly, waiting for the spell. He dispelled a momentary urge to kill her just to see the surprise on her face. And people said he didn't control his urges!

" _O_ _stendam mirabilia_."

The spell, one he'd been working on since the stone first came into his possession, floated around Hermione like a mist.

A series of oddly dressed people looked around at the crowd and slowly slipped back across the veil. Gellert smirked at the wondering faces of his people.

It was going very well. His people were impressed, as they should be. The fact that Hermione could control the stone would cement her position.

Then something happened. The room turned green and cold, if fire could be cold and burn at the same time…he almost felt it. Even he shivered as something that should not walk the Earth slipped through the hole in the veil.

"Well, well, well. Miss Granger is it?" A horrible hag, half rotted, with the remains of what one could tell had been great beauty floated into the room. Hermione's lips thinned.

"Bellatrix. You are looking a bit worse for wear dear."

The hag laughed, a high shriek of sound that made no few of his followers cringe and drop to their knees.

"You'll cause the very thing you fear you know." Her voice was low pitched and persuasive. She floated toward Gellert and he felt her eyes. "Fool. Twice a fool for Albus and now this one." She licked the side of his face, an act he couldn't quite feel, but that left a cold trail goosebumps down his neck, and not in a way he appreciated. "You really were delicious, so much darkness in such an inviting package. You've done so well Gellert, in everything except that one thing." She looked down at him with cold, amused eyes. "I suppose we all choose our poison in the end."

She left him without another word, but surrounded Tom with her misty body. "Hmmm…tall and strong and beautiful, with such power. I will ask for this one as my reward, whether he comes to our side or not." She cackled and turned back to Hermione. "You are a fool. You cannot change what is."

The girl's eyes flashed and she looked the other witch in the eye and lifted the ring. With a single flick, she gave it a spin. The shocked spirit was sucked back across the veil shrieking curses and threats. Gellert's heir smirked at the witch, back still ramrod straight and eye blazing. "Watch me, you bitch."


	48. Chapter 48

_**AN: I need to take a moment to thank all of you for coming on this journey with me. Champion has been one of the most interesting things I've ever written. You've made writing this rather dark fic a lot of fun. Here's to plot bunnies with big teeth!**_

 _ **Once again, this fic is rated M for overall subject matter.**_

Tom controlled his face tightly as Gellert circled Hermione in his study, his entire inner circle (excluding Bassett who was still drooling from Hermione's powerful memory charm) watching with varying degrees of caution.

"What did she mean?" Gellert's eyes were wild, but his tone was perfectly controlled. "The ghost who called me a fool. What. Did. She. Mean?"

Hermione shrugged, looking murderous. "I'm nearly certain she meant to undermine me in order to bring about my death. I inadvertently caused her to die." The faces that made up the court were not easy to read, per se', but they weren't impossible. With the occasional bit of eye contact Tom could see that they were impressed with her evaluation of the situation, and terrified at Gellert's reaction to being called a fool. After all, he'd just allowed two of his inner circle to be carted into the room in those bags…bags that had formally only held prey…

Gellert stopped and the 'proud father' expression returned to his face so quick it nearly game tom whiplash. "And how did you do that my heir? You must have met when you were very young."

Hermione turned her head and smiled beautifully. "I stole her wand."

Gellert grinned. "And how did that lead to her death?"

"She dueled a very powerful witch using a wand that did not mesh well for her. She lost."

"So your interference cost her life."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm certain it didn't help. She hated me when she was alive, held me for hours torturing me. When I had the chance to escape I took it, took her wand. She died days later in a duel with the mother of a friend of mine." She tugged at one of her braids and looked Gellert in the face. "Some of the spirits do not like me. Just like people they sometimes tell the truth, and sometimes they lie. If they were insane in life, dying doesn't seem to change it."

Tom put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She put a hand on his, but she never took her eyes off Grindelwald.

"And how does she plan to come back?"

Tom stiffened, remembering the spirit's threat. She wanted _him_. His jaw clinched. He'd brew the potion they made for Professor LeStrange and drown that madwoman in it.

Hermione relaxed into the chair and a few of Gellert's court seemed to relax as well. Tom did not.

He knew Grindelwald was far from stable, and that he and Hermione had just given him the cloak. While that action might provoke a sense of gratitude in a normal man, it might also inform a psychopath that an ally was powerful and had outlived their usefulness. It didn't escape Tom's notice that there were no truly powerful protégées among Gellert's men. He suspected that the dictator did not tolerate rivals.

Hermione seemed to consider Grindelwald's question for a long moment. "I don't know. I haven't seen her return. I don't think she had a magical pathway to rebirth, and all of her known associates are dead." She reached up and massaged her temples lightly. She turned her brown eyes to Gellert. "I know you've probably made the same enquiries that I have to the spirits who visit when you wear the ring. Even the friendliest won't speak of the other side and exactly what's waiting. I've never seen a spirit degraded like the witch today. It was as if her spirit had rotted. Can a spirit rot?"

Gellert laughed and turned to his people. "My heir. Precocious, isn't she?"

The witches and wizards laughed on cue. Tom rather suspected that they would laugh whether Gellert was praising Hermione or roasting her alive. They were too terrified to do anything else.

Gellert poured himself a large tumbler of some amber liquid and gestured to his court. "Leave. I wish to speak to my heir."

They filed out of the room one by one, Sergei last of all. Tom stayed where he was.

Gellert snorted at Tom's silent vigil, but he said nothing. Instead he sat across from Hermione.

"Do you have anything to add to what you told me publicly?" His tone was dangerous. Hermione folded her hands in her lap.

"I was thinking about exactly what the spirit said. She said you were a fool twice, once with Albus, and once with me. I know you originally offered him power." She sighed. "Did you offer him a co-ruler position?"

Gellert stilled. "It was discussed, early on."

Hermione nodded. "And he and I are the only ones you have offered this level of power to?"

"You are my princess, my heir, not my co-ruler. What I offered Albus…was more queen to my king. And no, it's not a position I have offered to others. Most of my people are easier to persuade. They want gold, or safety, or decadence. They don't really want to rule, they just want to do whatever they like. I provide a few of them with that opportunity in exchange for their support."

Hermione nodded. "But Albus and I…we don't want the trappings of power, we want the real thing."

"He did once." The words seemed bitter in Gellert's mouth.

Hermione started playing with Tom's fingers. "He still does. Did you know that he'd been nudging the ministry?"

Gellert sat, obviously enchanted. "And how do you know that, pet?"

Hermione gave him an angelic smile. "Well Grindelwobbly, I noticed some correspondence and 'accidentally' spilled my tea on Albus' chartreuse slippers."

Gellert wrinkled his nose. "The man simply shouldn't be allowed free reign in satirical matters." He frowned thoughtfully. "Remind me to draw and quarter his tailor when I take over England."

Hermione didn't flinch, though Tom was quite certain that Gellert was serious. "He loves those awful slippers. But while he was saving them, I made copies of the letters."

Tom kept his mouth from hanging open with difficulty. The girl was amazing.

Gellert grinned madly, caught her face in his hands, and kissed Hermione on the forehead. "Brilliant girl!"

Grindelwald took the letters while Tom fought down the urge to hex him.

Hermione walked over and poured herself a small glass of the sherry on the sideboard. "Yes, I'll keep a lookout for anything more, but you'll see that he is involved with organizing our magical defenses. He figured out your tendency to use Gringotts to transfer funds and items." She took a sip of her drink and sat again, crossing her ankles neatly. "Albus is trying to get the Ministry to crack down on that somehow…I wish him luck. The goblins will not allow wizards to dictate what happens in their banks."

Gellert grinned. "And the little pests are terrified that if they don't work with me, I'll take their main banks in Switzerland. It would be a bloody hard fight, they hollowed out an entire mountain…but planning it is a pet project of mine."

He waved his wand and dozens of detailed schematics of the goblin headquarters appeared and unrolled with a flourish, only to roll themselves up and disappear.

Tom blinked but the drawings were gone before he could get a good look at them.

Gellert began to peruse the letters, seemingly in an excellent mood until he read a single line on one of the letters. "Albus calls me a madman bent on world domination."

Hermione craned her neck and pointed to the letter with one finger. "It says ' _brilliant_ madman'."

The other man squinted and grinned again. "Ah! You are right. Damn his handwriting, it's only gotten worse." He read Albus' words with a manic grin. "Better yet, he warns that I'm a real danger even in the so-sacred borders of the British Isles…They do seem to have the idea that nothing can cross the water to get them, don't they?"

Hermione nodded. "They do. I have a number of ideas on reforming the current system. Most of them involve removing most of the Ministry."

Gellert grinned like a hungry shark. "I have an army that would like to do just that."

Hermione tipped her glass and placed it delicately on the table. "We need to head back, Albus was supposed to be out tonight, but I don't want him to miss us. The last thing I want is for him to suspect anything as of yet."

Gellert's eyes narrowed. "As you say. But you were quite impertinent tonight pet. I think you need a little reminder of what, exactly, I can do." With that he lifted his wand and a silent spell hit Hermione. Her back arched in pain. Tom tried to move, but he was glued to the spot where he stood. He could see tears pooling at the corners of her eyes and sweat breaking on her forehead. Finally, a tiny whimper erupted from her lips and Gellert released the spell.

Tom still couldn't move as the wizard ran his fingers over her jaw, across the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her breath came in pants.

"So strong." His voice was a caress. Grindelwald cupped Hermione's cheek. "Don't fight me next time pet, and it won't be as hard. I have no wish to do you real harm."

She gave a gasping laugh. "I didn't fight you Grindelwobbly." Her chin lowered and there was something dangerous in her eyes. "I even bound Tom so he wouldn't fight you while you tortured me." Tom felt his eyes widen and his jaw clinch, but she snaked her fingers around his wrist in warning. He allowed her touch to calm him.

She conjured a mirror and re-arranged her braids as Gellert watched, seemingly transfixed by her cavalier attitude. When she was done with the braids she banished the mirror with another non-verbal and gave the dictator an unnerving smile. "I know that was nothing more than a love-tap, torture wise. Believe me when I say though, you don't want to push me. I'm not like the rest of your sheep."

Tom felt the binding release and Hermione stood without aid, seemingly untouched by what Grindelwald had done. "I'll send you the next report through an owl. See you at Easter." And with that she motioned Tom through the door and they walked languidly to the port-key. A wisp of magic later and they were back in the rented room in Hogsmead.

Tom didn't get the opportunity to question Hermione when they returned to Hogwarts. Albus debriefed them (though Hermione left out more than she told Dumbledore, including her pilferage of his personal correspondence).

Tom didn't contradict her. Albus walked them to their dorms and reminded them that they had to be awake in a few hours…they were going to do some serious socializing the next day and Helena wanted them both there early.

He tried to sleep, but the images from the night before were burned into his eyelids. He tossed and turned for over an hour, fighting down the urge to vomit as his mind sorted through the overwhelming carnage and presented him with details he'd missed while he first viewed them. He suspected he'd been in shock. Never had he imagined anything like it.

Most of the 'traitors' had been men…young, old, and everything in between. The few women that had been dumped into the group were too young (in Tom's opinion) to be guilty of much of anything. The men were chosen because they opposed Grindelwald. The women had been chosen to add 'spice' to the revel, like the bastard was baking a fucking cake. Oh, Tom didn't doubt there were women who opposed the tyrant. He just suspected from their beauty that the women he'd provided his inner circle for sport were just young pretty women who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The smells and sounds had been the worst as he stood there: he could watch Hermione and pretend he didn't see the bright jets of deadly and debilitating spells being cast on the helpless in the main room…but nothing could block the sounds. Most of Gellert's men had silenced their victims, or at least gagged them: there was still the sound of thrashing, and whimpers around gags; it didn't change the cruel laughter and the muttered obscenities from the torturers. And the sounds of rape…cries of pleasure mixing with the sound of blood squishing. Tom fought down a shudder that threatened to wrack his body. He couldn't be this weak. He'd seen pain, and lots of it, in his life. But this wasn't the same. This was a group of humans who looked like reasonable people one moment and turned into a pack of rabid animals the next.

Tom buried his head under his pillow and counted to five thousand, focusing on each number as it appeared in his mind, making the numbers glow like spell work…

But that mental image brought him back to the torture and the lone screaming voice of Jean Marie Bassett. Hermione hadn't silenced the man. Probably because she didn't want anyone to doubt that she was torturing him.

Even though Tom loathed him for Hermione's original capture by Grindelwald, he hated the fact that Hermione had been forced to turn a man they'd met into a pile of quivering flesh. The beautiful man's mind seemed to have fled.

And Hermione…Hermione had known she was going to be tortured and she sat there and took it…like it was nothing, like it was expected. She had tortured Bassett in her turn, again, as if this was just the business at hand…like she was disemboweling toads for a potion.

He pounded his pillow and stifled sound that tried to come out of his mouth. His head was pounding. His mouth was dry, and he couldn't force himself to let go of his wand.

Unwilling to continue to lie in bed and think about the future or worse, the exposed flesh and the pitiful cries, Tom made his way down to the common room. His favorite leather couch welcomed him and he opened a book.

It was easy enough to pretend that the scene he'd witnessed was a nightmare. At least until a shivering Hermione rushed into the common room wrapped in a blanket.

Her face paled when she saw Tom, and then she paled further.

"I'm sorry."

He looked at her red-rimmed eyes. "I am sorry too."

She walked into his waiting arms, still shaking.

"I didn't know it would be that bad, I swear, or I would have never have taken you." She half-sobbed the words, and another wave of rage hit him as the meaning sunk in.

"You wouldn't have taken me?" His word dripped acid as he held her away from his body and looked into her eyes. "Hermione. He tortured you. Forced you to torture someone else. We had to watch a dozen people being tortured and raped to death…if you had known all that would happen…"

She shook her head. "I might not have had the courage to go…"

"But you claim you wouldn't have taken me?"

"I would have never exposed you to that." Her eyes were bright and her words were fierce.

"But you would expose yourself."

"I might, in order to fight it. I knew I'd eventually push him to the point of torturing me. I didn't think it would escalate this quickly, but I knew he would if I kept going back. And I suspected that he didn't limit his use of rape to the battlefield. That's why there are a number of anti-rape jinxes on both of us."

"You didn't even flinch when you had to torture Bassett."

She snuggled into his arms, and smiled up at him. "One tiny bit of good in all of this. I didn't have to hurt him. Even though I don't like him, and I think he's a pathetic lapdog for a madman…I didn't torture him. I could have, and if I have to, I will. But I won't if there is another way. I came up with one. I'll teach you that spell. It causes the person you cast it on to behave as if they are being tortured horribly, but in reality, they are just screaming themselves horse and may need to change their pants. Then they drool for a few hours and their mind blanks the entire experience like a bad memory charm." She gave him a little half-grin. "And I still don't feel bad about Lestrange."

He kissed the top of her head. "Vicious thing. I didn't feel particularly bad about her either, if the truth is known."

"Grindelwald is going to implode sooner rather than later. Did you see how relived his court was to have an heir?"

Tom nodded. "I'd say close to forty percent want him gone."

Hermione smiled. "We need to make that number around eighty. If he loses the support of his court and then he can't call on the witches and wizards that he thinks are oathbound to follow him…"

"Then we can maneuver him into a situation where he's overextended and vulnerable."

She nodded and rested her head on his chest. "He's inhuman. I can't imagine tossing people to a crowd like that, like tossing scraps to a dog. It's hard to believe that any of those people could have been saved at one time."

"What do you mean?"

"They didn't have to turn out like this. They could have chosen another path. And this one is going to use them, degrade their very essence into something horrible and dark, and then the path they chose will destroy them."

Tom rubbed little circles on her back. "It is disgusting. He's surrounded himself with the lowest kind of filth, and now he panders to them because their actions elicit fear."

Hermione gave him an odd look, and then clambered into his lap. She tugged his head down and proceeded to snog him silly.

Traumatized he might be, but he was a teenager who had a warm willing witch on his lap, and he didn't find it hard to put the evening aside as he traced patterns into her sensitive neck with his tongue.

They didn't stop the mutual assault until they were panting and sweating lightly. Hermione rubbed her damp forehead along his cheek. "Thank you. I can't imagine facing this night without you."

He kissed her swollen lips as he considered a cold shower. He didn't fancy meeting Helena Malfoy in a few hours with evidence of his activities straining against his robes. Hermione followed his gaze, and the look in her eyes was hungry.

Which did nothing at all to help with his not-so-little problem.

Abraxas removed a small bejeweled hand from his left buttock as he made his way through his ballroom. The matron that the hand belonged to looked somewhat put-out by his indifference, but the witch was his grandmother's age and had breath like a dragon.

Insincere queries as to his wife's health had been a staple since he'd sequestered Helga. No few of those came with propositions, and since he'd discovered that his wife was willing to kill him, he'd taken up a few of those offers discreetly. Perhaps not discreetly enough, since half the pureblood elite seemed to want to believe that he was screwing every matron he danced with, which was hardly the case. He'd indulged in a half dozen dalliances in the past weeks, and none of them were particularly gossip-worthy…well, he supposed that the two buxom waitresses at the Leaky Cauldron he'd taken with Charlus Potter might have qualified as a bit racy. To be honest, it was more of matter of too much firewhiskey and two very forward witches, but his reputation for being a young rakehell was the talk of the evening.

He walked over to Tom and Hermione, intending to ask her to dance, and changed his mind. With the gossip he was currently encouraging; he probably shouldn't be seen dancing with anyone who had a reputation that needed to be maintained.

Instead, he pulled the pair off to a visible alcove and set one of his mother's favorite privacy spells…if anyone tried to listen in, they would hear nothing but a discussion on the merits of different types of teas.

Both Tom and Hermione looked a bit worse for wear. He knew they'd spent the previous evening with Grindelwald, but he didn't like the tightness around their eyes when they looked at the glittering throng of revelers.

He took a couple of glasses of bubbling elderflower water from a passing elf and handed them to the two.

"Even under privacy spells, I won't ask about last night, however, for all of this to work you at least need to look like you are having a decent time."

Hermione gave him a dazzling smile. "Can you imagine the rumors that would start if we looked like we really were having fun?"

Tom smirked.

Abraxas laughed. "I leave Hogwarts and the two of you become perverts."

Tom put a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded."

Abraxas put an arm around the younger man. "You know who looks wounded…and confunded."

Hermione pulled a face. "Bassett. People are noticing. He looks like he spent the past few days under a bridge."

Tom twirled his glass. "Or being tortured."

Abraxas felt a small satisfaction. "Poor chap. I suppose he felt he couldn't skip the party. Really, social obligations are so tedious sometimes." He leaned indolently on the edge of the alcove. "Still, he should leave early. I'll mention it to him."

Hermione nodded sagely. "Perhaps your mother could mention it to one of her friends. I think the matrons might hold more sway over him."

Abraxas chuckled. "If the matrons find out he's here alone, he won't be leaving that way. Ravenous they are."

Tom raised a brow. "We'd heard. One of them informed me quite seriously that I should speak to you about rutting with dragons. Apparently, if you are going to indulge, you need special equipment to protect your…equipment."

Abraxas groaned. "They've really gotten out of hand. I was going for devil-may-care, not Marquise de Sade."

Hermione snorted. "I thought you were going for man-whore. Did you really take Lady Goyle while she sat on her drunken husband's lap?"

Abraxas wrinkled his nose. "Certainly not. That bit a fantasy can most likely be laid directly at Lady Goyle's feet. She's still angry about her husband's latest conquest."

Tom chuckled. "So do you really think Grindelwald will underestimate you if you bed half the women in Great Brittan?"

Abraxas shrugged. "It's a wonderful cover story for me being in all sorts of places I shouldn't be, with people who might raise a brow. But if I'm there following my baser urges, everyone just titters and talks about sowing 'wild oats'. Though one would think that they'd be better off encouraging that sort of nonsense before a man got married."

Hermione put a soft hand on his coat. "Helga has not softened her ideas about you?"

Abraxas shrugged carelessly. "No. There was never any hope that she would really." He ran his fingers over his hair, smoothing the silky strands. "A fool's hope I suppose. It wasn't as if either of ever wanted the other. I simply needed an heir and she needed to get away from her crimes. I offered to send her to Greece. Or France. Or any number of places. And I offered to allow her lovers as long as she vowed on her magic to protect the family name." He grinned ruefully. "She tossed a copper tea kettle at my head that time, and it was full of boiling water."

"What will you do?"

"Divorce her once the child is born. She'll keep her dowry. But she won't see the child unless she makes some very binding vows." He turned from the crowd and let his false expression slip. "It's a horrible thing to do, to force this kind of intimacy. My son will not be forced to endure what I have, what my mother did."

Hermione took his hand and squeezed for an instant. "I think that's the right thing to do."

Abraxas sighed. "I'm glad there is one path forward that is clearly right. The rest of our endeavors are cloudy at best." He gave them both a charming smile. "I'd better get back to mingling. If I stay much longer half the room will be convinced that I'm sleeping with at least one of you." He let a hint of wickedness slip onto his face and then dropped the act for a moment. "Once this business with Grindelwald is over, I will end all of this too. No more playing a part for the crowd."

Tom frowned at him. "If this is too much…"

Abraxas shook his head. "No. For now, I will do my part. But once my son is born, I want to show him something different." Abraxas put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "We're going to build a brand new world. I want there to be room in it for more honesty than this one has allowed."


	49. Chapter 49

_**AN: Happy Sunday! As I'm sure everyone knows, we are seven days from Christmas! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Now, a bit of a warning: Christmas is on my normal update day. I have no clue if my life is going to be holiday madness or holiday chill because I'm working all week, so it could go either way. If madness sets in, the update might be next Monday. If everything is perfectly chill, this might get posted Christmas morning (before my daughter wakes up). Either way, everyone have a safe, happy, drama-free holiday, and I'm wishing all of you all the love and laughter and life that you can wring out of every minute.**_

She woke on the couch in the common room, the one that was unofficially 'theirs' in front of the fire. The same one where Abraxas had always held court.

Tom was wrapped around her and she could tell from the pale light filtering through the watery depths of the lake that it was daylight and rather bleak outside.

Next to the fire however, she was warm and wrapped in Tom's arms with a fluffy blanket she'd conjured the night before wrapped snuggly around them both. She and Tom had murmured to each other deep into the night after the party at Malfoy manor. Abraxas and Helena had offered to allow them to stay, but she'd been reluctant… Hermione had quietly urged Tom to return with her to Hogwarts despite the invitation. Abraxas might think his wife was under lock and key, but Hermione worried. Helga was pregnant and unbalanced, and that would make any woman dangerous.

Abraxas had understood her reluctance, and it made him look a little sad, but he'd mentioned he would be at Hogwarts before dinner…Headmaster Dippet allowed the blond nearly unlimited access to his alma mater.

Hermione tried to fight down a smirk. She wondered just how much of the Malfoy gold had been used to make certain that access to the school was never a question.

Tom moved restlessly as he woke. She leaned down and kissed his brow.

"Good morning sleepyhead."

He smiled and pulled her on top of his firm chest. She allowed herself a moment to simply breathe in his scent.

"Merry Christmas Tom."

He nuzzled her neck. "It really is."

She gave a self-mocking bark of laughter. "Really?" After everything she'd allowed him to see over the past few days, how could it be happy?

He kissed her lips lightly. She did a quick non-verbal spell over both of them because even in the magical world, morning breath was an issue, and she didn't want to ruin the moment.

His finger drew circles up and down her back. "This is the first Christmas I've woken up with you in my arms. Even in my sleep, I knew I wasn't alone."

She kissed him then, really kissed him. They came up for air eventually.

But underneath, she was cringing with guilt. He was a boy. One who had less that a real chance at life to begin with, and she'd blithely taken him into the lair of a madman…why? Because he'd insisted? Because he thought he wanted to go? Because he wanted to protect her, Because it probably seemed reasonable when one considered that technically they were the same age.

She sighed and pulled away from him. She should have kidnapped him and drug him to some isolated cottage somewhere. She could have taught him magic herself, and she would have found a way to provide for them. She could have brewed polyjuice and taken a blasted job as a muggle as far as that went.

But he'd needed her as a companion more than a provider or mentor. He'd needed someone on his own level to bond with.

She pushed away from him and plastered a smile on her face.

"Let's open our gifts and go to the main hall. I want to see Minerva and Hagrid."

Tom knew when there was something off about Hermione. She was his rock, his foundation. The single thing in the cosmos that he depended on. Any slight change in her was reason for investigation.

He could read her better than anyone, despite her talent for occlumency.

Right now, she was pretending that she didn't feel guilty.

She did a fine job of it too. They opened gifts, found Minerva and Hagrid, had breakfast, and then went out to the grounds where she built them all a winter wonderland to play in, complete with a working sled and an ice castle version of Hogwarts.

Her eyes were bright and she smiled as she used spells to make the sled (which had eight tiny reindeer attached) zip up and down the lanes. Minerva laughed as her black hair whipped behind her and her rosy cheeks nearly glowed in the cold air. Most of the rest of the children at the school quickly made their way into her creation, so the atmosphere was boisterous and happy.

She was trying so hard to make a Christmas for everyone. He could sense that her mind was troubled, but she was intently keeping those thoughts from intruding. He shrugged. It didn't seem that important to him, but if it was important to her…

Tom put his wand to work and aided the snow-filled wonderland as he could, adding a dragon that flapped his wings and singing pixies made of ice.

Professor Flitwick came out dragging Professor Merrythought with an indulgent Albus trailing behind.

"Look at this! Galatea, have you ever seen anything like it?"

The older witch shrugged. "I'm certain I have." She looked lost for a moment, and Tom fought against rolling his eyes. The fact that a subject like defense was left in the hands of someone who quite literally couldn't remember half her life was more than a little disturbing. Tom levitated his pixies closer for Flitwick to inspect in an attempt to draw his attention away from Hermione, but the smaller man would not be denied. He pulled her to one side and began feverishly discussing the charms and spells she'd used to create the miniature castle.

Merrythought frowned and wandered back into the castle.

Tom watched her go and turned to Albus. "Something needs to be done about her."

Albus nodded. "She isn't getting better. Even Dippett noticed."

Tom snorted and was about to ask if perhaps the muggles had come up with any treatments for whatever was ailing the defense professor, when a wickedly accurate snowball caught him in the chest.

Abraxas grinned as Tom pulled his wand. A full-fledged snow battle ensued. It began as a free for all, but alliances were quickly formed, and within ten minutes, Tom, Hermione, and Abraxas found themselves leading a group that consisted of Hagrid, Minerva, and a Hufflepuff Tom didn't know. On the other side was one of the other leaders of the knights (Triton Humperkdink) from Ravenclaw, and a number of Claws and their allies. The Ravenclaw common room was always the fullest at any holiday. The poor swots just couldn't seem to get over the lure of the library for anything as frivolous as Christmas.

Once the Slytherins allied, the rest didn't really stand a chance. Triton admitted defeat and Tom caught his eye as they shook hands. Good. Tom had noticed that the other young man had been collecting allies lately. Today's exercise should prove that resistance was a waste of resources, and nip the other boy's efforts in the bud. That was one battle that wouldn't be fought with magic in the years to come. Who knew that a snow war could be so useful?

Everyone was cold and slightly wet from the free-for-all so the majority of them found themselves in the castle after the fight. Both 'teams'' appropriated an unused classroom and conjured puffs to sit on while the older students helped the young with drying charms. Minerva shot a powerful one at Hagrid and his hair puffed out like a cotton ball. The easy-going boy laughed and hugged the little half-blood witch. Hermione disappeared into the kitchens and returned with a cauldron of hot cocoa floating behind her.

Abraxas was trying to look relaxed, but Tom could tell that something more was wrong.

So as the atmosphere relaxed, he whispered a few words to Hagrid, who nodded. A few minutes later, the boy began a long, rambling tale about visiting the Centaurs in the forest, and meeting up with a nasty surprise in the form of a young wyvern.

Tom caught Hermione's eye and jerked his head at Abraxas. The trio made their way out of the room with little fanfare. Minerva watched them go with a thoughtful expression, and Tom noticed that she distracted one of the younger ones when the first year might have looked their way. Excellent. The girl was subtle…well, for a Gryffindor at any rate.

Tom didn't take any chances; he escorted his cohorts to the Room of Requirement. As he paced three times before the doorway that wasn't currently visible, he thought he heard something…but then the quiet whisper was gone and he was concentrating on the place he needed; a safe place to speak. He led them into the room, a close copy of Abraxas' study. Tom smiled and set his wand with a quick tempus alarm. Abraxas raised an aristocratic brow. Tom Shrugged. "Christmas dinner comes but once a year. It seems like a shame to miss any of it." He turned to Abraxas. "I can tell there is something wrong. Tell us."

Abraxas Malfoy considered himself a rather observant wizard. But even he could admit that Tom far outstripped him.

Would he have noticed the unease behind the devil-may-care façade that Abraxas played, and played well?

Tom did. Not only that, he'd organized a quiet exit to make time to question it, a rather wise move on his part since the three of them were neck deep in conspiracy.

Abraxas tugged at the end of his hair. "Helga tried to escape." He turned to Hermione. "I wondered if you'd seen something like that."

She shook her head. "No. I t was just an abundance of caution. Helga is a liability."

Abraxas settled into one of the elegant wingback chairs the room had provided. "Mother caught her, but only just. The baby is fine…but he might not be next time. I wanted your advice. Do you think I could allow her more freedom? I don't want her struggling so much that she harms the child."

Tom frowned. "I wonder if a potion might not be a better solution. She obviously can't be trusted, but it wouldn't do her much harm to spend the rest of the pregnancy quietly resting…"

Hermione interrupted. "It might, and any of those potions will affect the child as well. He'd be born addicted, or worse, too weak to live."

Abraxas flinched. "Damn. What if I allow her visitors in exchange for good behavior?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose you might…if you could trust them not to help her escape."

"That excludes almost everyone she knows. She'll paint me as the villain…and the facts if selectively presented, back her up. I am keeping her under house arrest and denying her the right to a trial simply to avoid the press."

Tom shrugged. "Honestly, I think your greater crime might be hiding the fact that she killed her brother in cold blood."

Hermione cleared her throat, perhaps sensing an oncoming argument about family duty that Tom wouldn't truly understand. How could he? Abraxas fought down a wave of sadness for the younger man. Hermione had at least had family for a few years.

Hermione stood up. "This might sound mad, but I think I know of one person who might be able to help…well besides Perenelle and Albus, they're both trustworthy enough."

Tom grinned at her. "Nicholas isn't?"

Hermione snorted. "Nicholas would not be good company for her. Besides the fact that he would be tippling his sherry a bit more than he should, he doesn't suffer treacherous fools well.

Abraxas smirked at the description of his blushing bride. "Who does?"

Hermione's smile was not at all nice. "Another treacherous fool; one who is too afraid to disobey."

Returning to England as a spy had been a sop to Jean Marie's pride and everyone knew it. The humiliation of being tortured into incontinence and summarily obliviated…his fellow members of the inner circle had made certain he knew that the child had done so, and done so without blinking.

Whatever she had used, she was not the master that Grindelwald was. He was well enough the next day.

However, deep within himself, there was a new fear of his master and a new, budding respect for the girl. He did not understand why. Perhaps because he had learned to love pain under Gellert's tender care, and she was the first woman to use such a tool on his fair body.

To say that a summons to Hogsmead was unanticipated was to say that it was surprising when the sun rose in the west. His master's little pet commanded him and he felt the need to obey.

She met him in the curve of the road, shrouded in a cloak with a golden snake twined around her neck that eyed him balefully.

"Jean Marie."

He bowed his head slightly. "My…lady."

Her smile turned a touch cruel. "Don't annoy me. I have a job to do, and I need a helper. If you are very good and assist me in this, there will be a little glory left over for you as well."

He gnashed his teeth together. "And what, exactly would one such as yourself need my help with?"

She raised a brow. Child she might be, but she knew about his anger toward her, and she didn't seem to care. "I need to you to do exactly what you were build for. Be beautiful and distracting while I handle some business for our lord. Helga Malfoy is your assignment. I'll give you times and dates and you will pay her a visit. You will sit and drink tea, and be excellent company. If she tried to enlist your help in any endeavor, you will tell her she must wait until after the child is born."

He nodded. "If you tell me what you are after perhaps I could…"

"No." Her voice was sharp and it cut across his words like a razor. She seemed to calm herself and she looked into his eyes. "I assume you were told about the torture you endured at my hand and the fact that I erased your memory afterward."

He couldn't keep the snarl from his face. "Yes."

"Good. You'll notice that you didn't suffer the typical after-effects." He frowned. She seemed to take that as a confirmation.

"I was ordered to torture you. He didn't say I could not heal you afterward. And I knew that with assignment that having you quivering at my feet would be less than helpful. So here you are. Sane. Whole. Able to do exactly what I knew I would need to assign to you." She leaned toward his ear. "You are here because you are capable of doing what I ask. If you become incapable, there won't be any reason for me to hold back next time." She handed him a piece of parchment with dates and times in neat handwriting.

"When we meet in public, be sure to play your roll. Remember, I haven't graduated from Hogwarts, so dial down the charm a bit. We wouldn't want people to know exactly what a depraved little bastard you really are, now would we? Not when your usefulness is limited to your invitations to all the right drawing rooms."

He clutched the bit of parchment in his hand as he shook from her implied threats. He would obey.

Helga Malfoy groaned as she waddled to her favorite chair. She felt like cow. She was even leaking milk. Nothing had turned out right since that little bitch had warned Abraxas. She knew it was that bushy-headed little orphan. Who else? If it had been Helena who had discovered it, Helga would be under the imperious.

She huffed as the little monster in her womb caught her kidney. "Ouch! There isn't room enough for Quidditch in there!" She mock-snarled at her belly. "Wait until you get out!" She patted her rounded form and frowned as she considered her options.

She needed to escape. Her own life was in danger. The child could be a help or a hindrance, but she didn't believe Malfoy for a moment when he offered to send her to the Isle of Sappho. That was just an empty promise to get her to bide her time until the child was born and they could do away with her.

The child kicked her viciously again.

She put her hand over her stomach and he quieted. She smiled a little. She'd always known she would probably have a child (and the pregnancy and conception were just as disgusting and difficult as she'd feared) but she'd never actually imagined herself as a mother. Somehow, she'd expected the child to be spirited away once the whole birthing process was done and she wouldn't need to have much to do with the little beast except trot it out occasionally for her friends when they visited to show off whatever accomplishments the tutor drummed into the child's head.

But this…this connection as the child grew inside her. That was unexpected. She found her hands cradling her belly protectively when she woke. It was a bit disconcerting.

She poured herself a warm cup of tea (the pot was warded to prevent her from breaking it or using it as a weapon. Abraxas was so put out with her attempted escape that she was surprised he hadn't put her on bread and water.)

The door opened and the blond bane of her existence walked in. He eyed the teapot cautiously. "Helga, how do you feel today?"

She didn't speak. There was no point really.

Abraxas sighed and ran his fingers over his silky locks. "I have a proposition for you. In exchange for your promise that you will not harm yourself, the child, or anyone who enters this room, and of course with the caveat that you will not try to run away, I will arrange visitors for you."

That surprised her. "What?"

He sighed. "I'm not a monster Helga. I know that you, of all people, need human contact. It's one of the reasons why either mother or myself visit you every day…it's not simply as your warden. I understand that killing your brother, in your mind, was a form of self-defense. The court might even agree. As you know, I have no wish to bring it to trial to find out for certain. There is no reason for you to fear me, or fear for our child in my hands. If you make an unbreakable vow that you will not intentionally harm him, you'll be free to visit him, even if we divorce, or if you choose one of the other options we've discussed."

She wished she could believe him.

He seemed to notice the slight softening around her eyes. "I will give you all the freedom I can afford to give you. If you give me your wizard's oath that you will not try to escape, or ask your visitor to help you escape, I will allow you to have the first visit tomorrow at tea. Give the oath for this single visit, and let us begin to build some kind of trust between us."

She looked at his blue eyes and nodded. "I will not try to escape. I will not harm my guest or myself, unless the guest attempts to harm me or my child."

Abraxas' face brightened at her addition. "Very well. I leave you to rest. I'll have one of the elves bring you those scones you like."

She wrinkled her nose. "No. No more boysenberry. I loved them yesterday, but now the smell makes me want to vomit. Just ask them if they can make grape ice cream."

Abraxas paled. "Grape?"

She nodded. "It sounds mouthwatering, don't you think?"

He looked a little skeptical. "If you say so. I'll ask them to do their best."

Helga nodded as he walked out.

Abraxas broke into a grin. It had worked. For the next two days she would not hurt herself or the baby at least. Then he crinkled his nose. Now he just had to figure out if the house elves could procure _grape_ ice-cream somewhere.

Yuck.


	50. Chapter 50

_**AN: 12/31/2016 (Happy Birthday Tom!) This is the updated version of Chapter 50. Many of you wrote me very polite, well-reasoned PMs and reviews about how I'd made a major mistake and basically done exactly opposite of what should have been done with the goggles. Those were lovely, and I want to take a moment to thank all of the professionals who spent their valuable time to help me with this fanfiction.**_

 _ **If your review was removed, it was because it was abusive. Please remember that disagreeing or correcting me is fine. Abuse will not be tolerated. And please, remember that when you review anyone's work! I've only had to remove three reviews the entire time I've been on this site, and I had to delete two in the last week.**_

 _ **I will try to post Chapter 51 Monday. Everyone have a safe and Happy New Year!**_

Jean Marie found himself outside Malfoy Manor the next day in a perfectly-cut afternoon ensemble with an all together too innocent-looking Hermione Granger inspecting him from head to toe. She nodded to herself as she pulled on a pair of kidskin gloves. "You'll do. Flirt just enough to distract Abraxas, and not enough to encourage Helga."

He snorted. "You do realize that to woman is…not actually attracted to me, or to any man really."

Hermione shrugged. "Not to 'men' certainly, but to you? Perhaps not sexually, but she enjoys your flirtation and attention."

Jean Marie felt his jaw drop open a bit. The girl looked so innocent…and here she was discussing issues so taboo that many grown witches were unaware of them.

She smirked as if she could tell exactly what he was thinking and then she started up the walkway.

The blond Malfoy lord met them at the door with a barely-repressed scowl. Hermione stood on tip-toe and pulled down his cheek to kiss.

"Abraxas, thank you for inviting us. I hear that Helga is still under the weather, poor thing!"

The man narrowed his eyes at Jean, still quite obviously suspicious, as he should be. Jean might very well be the only other man that Helga had ever seen naked, though he hadn't personally touched her. He'd seen her flushed from head to toe in the throes of passion and at the hands of a witch whose entire life had been spent pursuing physical pleasure…at least until she'd disappeared off the face of the Earth. When Jean Marie had finally found time to search for the woman, she was nowhere to be found.

He shook his head to remove the cobwebs from his mind. Time to stop ruminating and start being devilishly charming. He was here to do a job after all. He caught the cuckold's eye. "Indeed, I was quite distraught when I learned that Mademoiselle Malfoy had been ill during her pregnancy. She is generally such a _lively_ creature." He couldn't resist the mild dig at the unwilling and inattentive husband in front of him. After all, sainthood was not an honor to which he had ever aspired.

The other man's blue eyes chilled, but he graciously allowed them into the home. "I'm afraid Helga will have to receive you both in her personal sitting room. Her condition, you understand."

They entered the maze-like halls of the manor and Jean tried to memorize the route, but he'd never been especially good at such things. It was just as well; he was, after all, there to do one job and one job only: pacify the current Mrs. Malfoy until her child could be born, and give Granger the opening to do _something_ while Malfoy was distracted. His curiosity about exactly what that something might be was like an itch that one couldn't scratch in public.

Helga Malfoy _nee_ Olivander looked like she was trying to hide a bludger under her dress and her ankles were swollen, but the pregnancy had not altered her looks negatively. In all honesty, the lovely glow from her skin made her more appealing that he'd seen her in ages.

He bowed low over her raised hand. "My dear, it's such a pleasure that you are feeling well enough for company."

Her cheeks colored. "I've been without for far too long Jean Marie." He eyes flicked to her husband and she pasted a wicked smile on her face. "You must tell me all the juiciest bits of gossip that I've missed."

Jean Marie's eyes flitted to Hermione, who nodded lightly as she edged toward the door. He gave Helga his most charming smirk. "All of them? My dear, this could take hours. To begin with though, you will never believe what Lady Goyle did less than a fortnight ago…."

 **HGHGHG**

Tom was pacing when Hermione returned from Malfoy Manor. He pulled her into his arms. "How did it go?"

She shrugged. "Well enough. The child is due in April. I think she can be distracted until he is born, and after that she might just be a willing ally…don't get me wrong, her head is filled with candy floss and she has a disturbing lack of a moral compass, but she seems to have some feeling for the child she's carrying at least."

Tom frowned. That wasn't saying much. Hermione pulled him to the leather sofa. She held his hands and sat close, tucking herself into his side, right where she belonged.

"What did you do today?"

Tom blushed.

He'd never blushed in his life, and it wasn't a habit that he'd ever intended to pick up.

Damn and double damn.

Hermione was eyeing him was unrestrained curiosity. "Tom?"

The tips of his ears were burning for Merlin's sake.

She cupped his face gently. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I love you, no matter what is wrong, and I'll help you fix anything you've broken." Her voice held a note of sorrow, and a hint of fear. He finally met her eyes.

"Look into my head, and I'll show you." His voice caught.

She nodded and he felt her enter his mind. He led her to what he'd heard earlier that day.

" _Let me bite." Tom looked around, but he was the only one on the stairwell. He trained his wand at the open air but didn't flinch outwardly, though he was ready in case of an attack._

 _The voice didn't sound like a ghost, it didn't sound like a student…there was something off, something wrong._

" _Who is there?"_

 _The voice reacted to his words. "I can hear them, all of them, moving and wandering and they smell so delicious. I want them, I want them…hungry for so long…"_

He let her mind go and saw her blink as she exited his mind. Tom was shaking, dreadfully afraid of what might be coming. He'd always feared…

"They thought I was mad, you know." The words tumbled out without permission, and for whatever reason, he couldn't stop them. "That's why Mrs. Cole was always arranging for the doctors to meet me. I wondered sometimes, when things happened that no one could explain." He looked up and met her beautiful eyes, desperate. "Tell me you heard that voice and it didn't sound like me."

She kissed him, long enough so that some of the strain left his body and a new, much more pleasurable tension replaced it. "Tom, I didn't hear a voice." He closed his eyes. He felt her warm little hand on his cheek . "I heard hissing."

His eyes popped open. "It's a snake."

She nodded. "Probably in the pipes if I had to guess."

He slumped into the leather and ran his fingers through his curls. "I thought…"

She kissed his cheek softly. "You thought you were going mad. That's a terrible question for anyone to have to ask themselves, and so much worse when you don't have a support system." She smiled admiringly at him. "Sometimes I have no idea how you survived that place at all, much less grew to be the man you are becoming."

Tom felt another slight blush. Damn it!

 **ADADAD**

Meetings at the Ministry ought to be listed under restricted methods of torture. The sheer lack of spine in the average ministry official was more than a little unnerving. Edvard Olivander, head of the Auror department (and cousin to Garrick Olivander the wandmaker), was the single thinking ally in a sea of spineless politicians.

In this small, supposedly limited, meeting the Wizengamot was discussing the situation in Europe. Most of the fools seemed to be taking the 'sit on our arses and hope the big bad wizard doesn't invade' approach.

Albus was literally biting his tongue. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes was a herculean task.

Clementine Prewett bellowed over the general conversation as he held a four foot tall ear horn to his head. "I want to meet this so-called spy of Albus'."

Olivander pointedly did not sigh in disdain. If anything, his pale face became almost statue-like. "I'm afraid that the spy's identity will have to remain a mystery. The person who is doing this is taking enormous personal risk to go behind enemy lines…"

The old man spat in the floor, much to the disgust of his neighbor who tried to scoot as far away as possible. "False once will prove false once again. I've always said you can't trust a spy."

An unsurprising, but still unsettling, number of the members nodded or seemed to think that outing a spy during a meeting with over a score of participants was a fine idea.

Thankfully, it was Olivander that spoke before Albus had the chance. "If we speak the spy's name, I expect they will be dead in less than a week."

The old wizard sputtered. "You dare to imply that a member of this august body could be corrupted by that straw-haired popinjay?"

Olivander narrowed his colorless eyes. "Was I simply implying?" His voice was quiet, but it carried easily though the room and snapped like fire. "Forgive me. Let me be blunt: Every member of this august body is susceptible to corruption…or to torture, which would work just as well. The sad truth, gentlemen and ladies is this; everyone cracks under torture eventually. If I give this secret to twenty people, within a week Grindelwald will have tortured and bribed enough of you to be certain of his mark and the spy would be dead. The spy is a simple foot soldier in Grindelwald's ranks, and not even Albus or I have his true name or identity."

Albus gave them his best 'determined' look and carefully didn't let his face or body language give lie to Ollivander's little speech. If the twenty members were true as goblin-forged silver, then this information would not leak to Gellert. If there were spies or sympathizers within the Wizengamot itself, then Albus needed to know. This story was the juicy bait on a hook for a very large fish.

Ollivander's voice softened. "This is to protect all of you as much as it is to protect our single point of information within Gellert's ranks. You must not mention this to anyone lest you sign their death warrant."

The members began to nod, and even old Prewett gave a harsh jerk of his head when Albus caught his eye.

Not that Albus thought the old windbag would aid Gellert. Not in this lifetime. Gellert was going to _change_ things, and if there was anything Prewett couldn't stand, it was change.

The members of the council bantered needlessly for nearly two hours and finally settled on the only path forward, which was to do exactly what Albus had proposed.

Olivander gestured for Albus to follow him and led the other man to his office. They padded quietly through the dark halls of the ministry.

The pale man sank behind his perfectly organized desk with a sigh and reached into a drawer and pulled out two battered glasses and a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. He didn't ask, but he didn't pour more than two fingers. He handed the first glass to Albus with a small shrug. "If I need it after all that, I can only assume that you do as well."

Albus toasted him and took a healthy sip. "Hearing them bicker certainly makes the argument for a benign dictatorship all the more appealing."

Olivander sputtered slightly and then grinned. "I favor building imaginary monarchies in my head when they are particularly verbose."

Albus chortled as he sipped. "I suppose we'll simply have to wait and see if they sell out our 'spy'."

Edvard sighed. "I wish that our fictitious spy was real. We need hard intel about their numbers and abilities."

Albus shrugged, careful not to give anything away. He liked Olivander; the man was a brilliant duelist and his dry sense of humor offset Albus' whimsy nicely…but that didn't mean Albus trusted him. "Sorry. All I have are first-hand accounts from some of the refugees. We can extrapolate a bit from first person accounts, but it isn't enough."

Olivander hummed as her flipped through folders. "You went behind his lines two years ago."

Albus nodded slowly. "I did. I couldn't do it again. They very nearly caught me, and Gellert bears me a personal grudge."

The other man raised a pale eyebrow. "Oh?"

Albus took a deep breath, debating. He was half-tempted to tell Edvard the unvarnished truth, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. It wasn't that much of the wizarding world didn't understand his preference for wizards, even if it was rarely spoken about in most circles. He simply couldn't bear to admit to Edvard that Gellert had ever held such a huge place in his esteem. Admitting it to others would make it real, and once they knew, they'd see him as perverse, because how else could one enjoy the attention of someone so depraved?

Realizing that the silence was stretching further than it should, Albus settled for the whitewashed half-truth that he'd always used. "We were, for lack of a better term, friends for a time in our youth. He tried to recruit me, I tried to sway him. It ended badly."

"So he'll be watching for you."

"I have reason to believe he keeps watch on me nearly constantly, with spies within Hogwarts and outside of it."

Ollivander's brows snapped together. "He considers you a threat."

Albus gave the other man an elegant shrug. "I am a threat."

The pale man didn't scoff, didn't make mention that Albus spent his time teaching at a school for youngsters. He simply cocked his head to the side and hummed under his breath lightly. "Fair enough. So Grindelwald is watching you, and those two brilliant young students you've taken under your wing…the ones my cousin is always going on about."

Albus nodded. "With good reason. Tom discovered a way to produce a viable shield cloak. The other Mr. Olivander is currently working under a limited patent to produce more for the Department of Mysteries, with an eye toward using them during the upcoming battles."

Edvard frowned. "He's only fifteen?"

Albus nodded. "And don't mention it outside this room, but Hermione Granger was the main force behind the cure for dragonpox." The other man's eyes widened. Albus nodded. "She did it over a single summer Edvard."

"Merlin."

"Exactly. Gellert undoubtedly wants both of them. I have sought to protect them."

The pale man poured himself another, larger tumbler of whiskey.

"How soon?"

Albus knew Edvard wasn't talking about the children anymore. "We expect him to be on our shores within two years." Albus dug out a neat little pad and parchment from his pocket. "What do you know about redirecting illegal portkeys?"

Olivander raised a brow. "I happen to know everything there is to know about British portkeys Albus…but I'm certain you knew that."

Albus grinned at the other man's total lack of modesty about his own accomplishments. "Quite right. So if Gellert were porting an army in, could we direct them somewhere else? Perhaps to Azkaban, or even into a nice, deadly peat bog?"

Edvard scratched his chin and absently sipped his whiskey as he pulled a quill and parchment from his desk and scratched out complicated formula.

"If we knew, exactly, when the portkeys were going to commence…"

Albus shrugged. "Just assume that we can find out, and we'll try to find a way."

Olivander cleared his throat and poured each of them another healthy measure out of the bottle. "Now, understand, a legal portkey is grounded in a way so that hijacking it would be nearly impossible. But that's the thing about illegal portkeys isn't it? They can't have the appropriate grounding measures because the grounding itself is what alerts the Ministry. So if we knew the exact times and the general locations, we bloody well could hijack them. And serve the bastards right."

Two spots of color had bloomed on Edvard's cheeks. He scratched out a couple of equations and squinted at the paper. "It could work."

Albus smiled to himself and accepted yet another refill for his cup. It was excellent whiskey after all.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom sighed as he used the smallest screwdriver he'd ever seen to adjust an even smaller screw in a set of goggles.

"Are you sure this is really necessary?"

Hermione gave him a look. The one that reminded him that she was something more than his brilliant best friend. "Fine, just checking."

Hermione blew a wayward curl out of her face as she struggled with the mirrored lens of her own set of goggles. "Honestly, no. I don't know for certain. I do know that Salazar Slytherin left a giant, murderous snake inside a school, presumably to protect it in case muggles attacked…how it would avoid turning the student to stone in that event is something that wasn't mentioned."

Hermione adjusted her strap and pulled the goggles over her curls, which reacted by curling fiercely around the strap. "I'm fairly certain the snake in question is a basilisk. Which means the first hurdle is the stare that can kill you. I think these should protect us."

"I'm not certain I like the word 'should'."

She smiled. "Me either. There are a lot of uncertainties here. The snake _might_ be able to control the killing glare. It also _might_ defer to you because you are a powerful parselmouth. The goggles _should_ protect us from being killed just by meeting the thrice-damned thing's eye. I have a rooster in my bag under a sleeping charm, just in case the basilisk can't be controlled. Barring that it takes a fairly powerful attack to kill it. Goblin wrought steel is the weapon of choice, but I have an entire vile of unicorn breath that Hagrid got for me for my birthday."

"I've never read…"

She shrugged. "Just trust me, it will put the snake into a stupor." She pulled of the goggles and polished the lenses absently. "I honestly have no idea how Hagrid got the breath in the first place. It only works if it is given willingly."

Tom shrugged. "Beasts of all kinds love him. You should have seen those werewolf pups he was hiding under his bed."

She rolled her eyes as they headed toward the bathroom. "Oh that reminds me….you haven't seen any evidence of a giant spider, have you?"

"A what?"

"An Acromantula to be precise. I think Hagrid is going to get an egg for one in the next year or so…I don't know how. The blasted thing takes up residence in the forest, finds a mate, and there is an entire colony of creepy crawlies the size of cows that end up inside the school, eating people."

Tom paled. He didn't care much for spiders. "Exactly why is Hagrid going to raise this man-eating spider?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'd say he was lonely. And Aragog will never kill a human personally…though his offspring make no such distinction. I think our best bet is to ship it back to Borneo when it shows up, while it's still the size of a Pekinese."

Tom muttered "Or we could swat it like an insect."

Hermione looked up. "They are extremely intelligent, fully able to learn English, and have reasonable discussions with humans…though most magical zoologists agree that this behavior is directly linked to hunting humans specifically, though a vocal minority claim it was part of the original experiment in 1640 when they were bred as treasure guardians."

"And swatting it is a bad idea because…?"

"Hagrid would never forgive us?"

Tom sighed. "What if we get it first?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know how he got it in the first place."

"Fine. We'll deal with the giant spider later. Right now we have a giant snake with a death glare and venom that can kill within moments."

She nodded as they approached the bathroom where Hermione had revealed the Chamber of Secrets was located. Hermione went in first (since it was a girl's loo) and waved him in once she'd checked the stalls. She took a deep breath and continued, "Try to talk to it first. It would be easier for everyone if it accepts you as Slytherin's heir."

Tom held the door for her and then adjusted his goggles. "Right. Sweet talk the snake. That shouldn't be any problem at all." He let the sarcasm drip from his voice.

She smirked as she pointed out the correct sink. "Tell it to open, in parseltongue."

He slipped into his second language without difficulty. " _Open_."

They watched as the sinks sunk into the floor and the entrance slid into place, revealing itself after a thousand years. The tunnel smelled of ancient decay and running water.

Tom wrinkled his nose. "We should have brought Lestrange."

Hermione's brows rose above her adorably dorky goggles.

Tom smirked. "Well, someone has to go first."

Hermione put her hand in his. "It will be like an extremely slimy, disgusting slide."

"Lovely."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Together then?"

Tom clutched her hand. "Always".


	51. Chapter 51

_**AN: I know, I know, posting on Monday is becoming a bit of a habit. I'll try to get back on schedule next week. Can you believe that this fic began nearly a year ago? I'd love to finish before February 14**_ _ **th**_ _ **(yes my first post was on Valentines…I hate that holiday so I distracted myself). I won't mess up the story to hit an artificial deadline, but I think it can be done.**_

Even though she hadn't been down the slippery pipes since the Battle of Hogwarts, she remembered how very disgusting she'd found it the first time. Some things didn't change despite the fact that she was a temporal anomaly.

She and Tom landed softly. Last time she hadn't sensed the subtle softening spells that guaranteed that anyone taking this path to the chamber would land without harming themselves. She had decided (over the years) that there was probably another entrance to the chamber somewhere in the castle. She couldn't imagine a world where Salazar Slytherin enjoyed slides enough to make it his preferred route to his own secret chamber. As they found their feet, Hermione admired the spells that had been in place for nearly a thousand years. They were subtle and precise, with a very Slytherin edge: they would slow the fall so that a person could land properly…if they knew what was coming. If they didn't, they might break and ankle, thus giving the owner of the chamber an edge if faced with intruders. She couldn't believe she'd missed them at age eighteen. Of course, there had been a battle going on and she'd been carrying a horocrux, so she might be excused for not noticing every single little detail.

She shook herself lightly. Now was not the time to go woolgathering. Last time she'd been within this chamber the basilisk had been nothing but a slowly rotting carcass. Now the same snake was alive and deadly.

She turned to Tom. "Call out to it. Mention that you are Slytherin's bloodline."

Tom hissed out something in the cold, damp air.

Hermione felt drops of sweat collect along the blasted strap of the goggles, which immediately began to itch of course, but she didn't dare dislodge the goggles as they waited.

Instead she distracted herself with re-working her calculations on the spells she'd placed on the goggles, doing the math for the tenth time, looking for flaws.

Tom occasionally let loose another round of sibilant hissing, and eventually, perhaps after five minutes of waiting in the gloom, the unmistakable sound of scales on stone alerted them that the basilisk approached.

Tom stiffened as the snake came into view and he shifted his gaze down to his shiny oxfords. A small part of her (the part that wasn't terrified of dying and being devoured by an infernal pet) found it amusing that even in a flooded thousand year old tunnel, Tom's shoes were still shiny. Could she do protection spells on her footwear? Yes of course she could. She did, in fact, have several shielding spells and a fireproof spell on her slippers. But she hadn't bothered with anything to protect from scuffing. Tom didn't miss a trick.

Tom whispered from the side of his mouth. "Keep your eyes closed and your head down." She frowned, suddenly wary of whatever he was about to do. She pulled the little bottle of Unicorn breath out and nervously fiddled with the top.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom knew the moment that the basilisk had decided to accept him…despite the lack of a pass code. (Blast Salazar. Why the hell include a pass code for an enormous snake and then forget to pass it down?)

But the creature was desperately lonely and she was willing enough to acknowledge him once she heard his words and saw the snake emblem on his cloak.

She (for the snake was most definitely female) hadn't paid much mind to Hermione after Tom had confessed that his friend didn't speak parseltongue. Instead she'd curled in on herself (most likely to conserve heat) and closed her eyes. " _You can look at me now, young Slytherin_."

Tom looked up and she was indeed a proud beauty. Her head had the classic triangular shape of most pit vipers, with a crown-shaped mark above her brow in dark, dark brown (he'd read about that crown in a description by Pliny the Elder that was otherwise almost entirely wrong on every other point. Muggles weren't the best sources for information on magical beasts…Pliny seemed to think that a basilisk was born from the egg laid by a rooster of all things…). Her scales were deep emerald green, burnished with soft sand until they glowed in the torchlight.

Tom smiled. She was vain enough to want to show off her beauty. Tom wasn't at all opposed to a little well-deserved flattery. She was a gorgeous specimen. " _And what did my ancestor name you oh most lovely of all serpents_?"

She half raised her head in pleasure at his complement. " _Salazar was fond of an alchemist who died before he found me. Her name was Maria the Jewess. He called me little Mari_."

Tom would have loved to have shared the irony of the towering snake being called 'little Mari' but he decided that he'd save the ironic observations for some time when they wouldn't get him killed.

" _He left you here, alone, all these years_?"

The snake sighed. " _It was a very long time. He was very afraid of the muggles coming to the castle. He thought the wards would weaken eventually without powerful witches and wizards watching over them._ "

Tom sighed. " _So he left you here to guard the students_."

The snake rested her head on one of her coils. " _Yes. But I don't think he thought it would be for so long. I have to hunt so often now, I'm active for months and months every fifty or sixty years, just to get enough food_."

She sounded so sad.

Tom looked in the water. " _What are you eating_?"

The snake made a noise that sounded remarkably like a snort. " _Rats mostly. The occasional wayward animal that finds its way in. Fish, lots of fish. They come in from the lake since the seals ruptured_."

Tom frowned. Seals rupturing in the foundation of a castle couldn't be a good sign, magical or not.

" _I'll try to bring you something tasty…maybe we can find a goat or something_."

The snake sighed. " _I'd rather have something stupid, like chickens…but not roosters_."

Tom laughed lightly. _"I should think not. Don't worry Mari. My friend, Hermione and I, will try to find a better solution_."

Tom began backing away, holding Hermione's hand as she stared at her shoes. The snake looked up, though her eyes were closed. " _You will come back and visit, right_?"

Tom couldn't help it. " _Of course I will_."

 **TMRTMR**

Tom fumed as Hermione stripped off the goggles and they watched the entrance slide back into place. "He left her there. Just like it is normal to leave an animal locked up with no one to talk to and a limited food supply. If the seals hadn't ruptured she'd probably have starved to death. As it is, she's too hungry to sneak through the castle. It will take months to feed her up and then we still have to find a place for her, somewhere where she can be safe and everything around her can be safe."

Hermione had the oddest look on her face, like Christmas morning had come again.

"What?"

His arms were filled with curly hair and warm witch as she hit his chest with a _thunk_. "It's just that you immediately care about her."

He rolled her eyes. "Of course I do Hermione."

Her lips quirked. "Of course." She ran a pensive hand through his curls, her eyes tender.

"We'll need maps of areas where we might transport her, and we should ask Hagrid if he can help us find something for her to eat…I know snakes need live prey."

Tom, having lived with Hermione for years followed her line of thought with ease. "Chickens are the preferred food apparently."

"Really? I wonder if that has something to do with the rooster's crow being deadly to the basilisk? Or does the animal have such sensitive hearing that…?"

Tom interrupted before she gained too much momentum. "We'll have lots of time to research, and I'm sure Mari will be amenable…"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Salazar named the snake Mari?"

"After Mary the Jewess, the alchemist."

Hermione smirked. "It's adorable that the ancients thought that women were better alchemists because angels had given then the secrets because they were besotted by them."

Tom smirked and pulled her into his arms. "I can see what they thought that even the angels would be impressed with some witches. Brains are incredibly sexy. Even angels couldn't resist…but I'm not planning to let you go, so the angels can just back off."

Her lips met his and they accomplished nothing at all for several minutes.

He didn't regret it in the least.

 **GGGGGG**

Captain John Smith was a useful sort of tool for someone like Gellert Grindelwald. His sole ambition was the destruction of the British Ministry, and he had absolutely no compunctions about doing whatever he needed to do to accomplish it. Whatever ambitions he had beyond that goal were not shared and his life before he joined Gellert's ranks was never discussed.

Gellert's urge to find out what had prompted that level of searing hate was strong, but having an ex-Auror on his side was far too valuable to waste to indulge his curiosity…at least until they destroyed the Ministry. Then he would find out what made John Smith tick.

At the moment his restraint was being paid off tenfold.

"They've managed to get a low-level infiltrator. The idiots brought it up in a meeting of the Wizengamot."

Gellert frowned. "Albus did this?"

Smith shrugged. "Olivander was the one who presented it, but the spy was Albus'. They didn't give a name or any indication of who the spy was, claimed they didn't even know his name." Smith's mouth frowned under his truly impressive moustache.

Gellert laughed. "Albus knows. He wouldn't be working with someone without knowing every detail."

Captain Smith looked wholly unconcerned. "As you say My Lord. If I may, I should like to return to England. I have much to do…"

Single minded obsession was useful, but _boring_.

Gellert missed Hermione. At least she was interesting. And Albus.

The addition of the Hallows had been a mild boost to his reputation, but hadn't given him the power he sought, and it did nothing at all to ease the sheer mindless boredom of running an empire. He had to concern himself with every tiny mundane detail. It was maddening.

"You didn't leave a mess when you interrogated whoever it was for information, right?"

Smith shook his head. "No My Lord. A certain member of the council told his young and comely wife, and she is in sympathy with your objectives. Her family is very opposed to 'mudbloods' and the rumor in pureblood circles is that you will rid the world of their filth."

Gellert's eyes sparkled. He'd been seeding the gossip-mill with certain information for years as he softened Britain up. Spies at Hogwarts in teaching positions were nothing less than a stroke of brilliance. If he could influence the children, then he could keep a firm grip on society.

"Excellent. A fine rumor as long as it isn't confirmed. I intend to purge the weak…pureblood, half-blood, and Muggleborn. If the purebloods believe their status will protect them it's just as well that I'm going to root out the dim-witted."

Smith looked absolutely unconcerned. "They will support us in the coming conflict. That's all that concerns me."

"And after?"

Smith gave Gellert a chilly smile. "Afterward, I'm certain you know how to deal with insurrection. It's won't be my problem."

Smith took himself out of the throne room with little fanfare. Cheeky, and not in an interesting way. Gellert would have to do something about that…eventually.

But for the moment, he pondered how to remove a spy without knowing who that spy was.

 **ADADAD**

A small owl fluttered into Albus' office and landed on the perch there with an exhausted hoot. Fawkes trilled at the little bird and pushed his own water dish toward it.

Albus hurried over, casting diagnostic charms. The bird was mildly dehydrated, exhausted, but otherwise in decent enough health. He turned to his familiar. "He'll need to rest here for awhile. I'll have the elves bring in a batch of nourishing soup." With that, Albus sent a note to the kitchens, and unrolled the parchment that had been tied to the owl's leg.

Moments later, he sent a coded message to Edvard, asking him if it would be convenient to meet at the Three Broomsticks later that evening. Another message to Iris at the Three Broomsticks called in an old favor and secured the tavern's private room for the evening.

He paced for half an hour, then gave up and went to the shower.

Soap.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Soap.

Scrub.

Rinse.

At first, the scent of his soap soothed him, but the rough weave of his washcloth eventually abraded his skin and the water ran pink.

Soap.

The sting was familiar.

Scrub.

He should stop.

Rinse.

A different sting from the others. He should get out, heal himself.

Just one more time.

He was shaking by the time he finally made himself turn off the water.

Creams and spells and potions were applied as always. His robes were soft against the new skin as he hid the evidence. No one would know that he'd spent three hours in the shower flaying the skin off of his body in self-inflicted penance.

He knew that it helped nothing.

He just couldn't seem to stop.

 **ADADAD**

Olivander came up to the small room at the top of the Three Broomsticks at the agreed time. Albus was already waiting, sipping the latest in a series of drinks.

His pale eyes narrowed when they met Albus' twinkling blue ones.

"What happened?"

"Gellert implemented some new policies within his ranks. Truth potions administered by the superior officers."

Olivander cursed quietly but very creatively, calling into question the heritage and probable occupation of certain members of the 'august body'.

Albus filled a glass and handed it to him.

"Announce that the spy was a ruse. Use it as an excuse to check the whole lot of them."

Edvard flinched. "They won't like it."

"But they won't resist, because it will make them look guilty." Albus smirked.

The pale man took a meditative sip of his drink, obviously pondering the ramifications. "It is a good plan. It makes a victory out of what was a blow to our side." His eyes were filled with worry and his lips thinned into a hard line. "If we can't even trust our own governing body, who can we trust?"

"The people themselves. Government is a necessary evil. Once we defeat Gellert, I think we should work on limiting it. Otherwise they'll probably do something unforgivable like institute a Marriage Law."

Edvard choked a little on his whiskey and took a long drink to make up for it. "Sounds like the kind of asinine thing they would do."

Albus nodded. "Take a situation, remove all logic and humanity, and you have a good idea of what they will propose."

The head of the Auror office flinched. "I'll work up a list of names of those members who might not be opposed to limiting their own powers. We'll need someone at the Prophet to push it."

Albus smiled. "I'm sure I can find some intrepid young reporter who would enjoy writing a series of articles that decry the excesses for which our Government is known to indulge. We will of course have to see to the small matter of winning a war first."

Edvard toasted Albus and smiled. "Of course. And it will take planning. I think I will speak to Iris about getting a room for the night."

Albus felt his brows rise. "Plotting does require a few sacrifices."

The other man's lips quirked slightly. "Anything worth doing requires time to do correctly."

As he watched the other man walk down the stair, Albus couldn't help but wonder what exactly Edvard meant by that statement.

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione frowned as she finished her essay on the viability of bowtruckle colonies…which would have been an excellent essay…in Care of Magical Creatures. As a lesson in Defense, it had a rather tenuous (at best) relationship to the subject.

Tom enjoyed it a bit more than she did. He'd always excelled with Creatures and bowtruckles generally lived in trees with wand-quality wood, so the discussion had been an excellent excuse for him to write Mr. Olivander and indulge in a series of long letters.

Hermione found herself smiling. Mr. Olivander. Albus. Nicholas and Perenelle. Hagrid and Minerva…and most of all Abraxas Malfoy. Tom had a verifiable social circle of people who were not sycophants who liked him for himself and appreciated his genius without letting him run roughshod all over them. In his last life he'd spent most of his time with other children, and even the brightest child would have a rather hard time keeping up with Tom's mixture of genius and hard life experiences.

Tom saw her smiling to herself and raised a brow, but she shook her head slightly. The common room was hardly the place for that discussion, and if possible, she would rather not share those thoughts at all.

She looked up at the clock and caught Tom's eye.

They finished their essays and Tom took her hand as they made their way out of the castle under powerful charms.

The Knights of Walpurgis had called the quarterly meeting.

Hermione was strongly reminded of Muggle parliament meetings as they argued loudly. The meeting went deep into the night as the members argued their points. The clearing was under a powerful silencing and notice-me-not charms…still, Hermione thought she saw the Centaur sentries circle around them more than once. She made a mental note to approach the tribes in a few years once she had more power at the Ministry.

She and Tom held their tongues while the others bickered. Around midnight, she caught his eye. No one had changed their opinion. It was time to add some pertinent information to the proceedings.

The arguments hadn't changed much from the moment they walked into the clearing. "I'm just saying, Grindelwald will move things, change things."

Another member sniffed. "He's not British."

Tom adopted a contemptuous, lazy manner he'd stolen directly from Abraxas. "Oh yes. Dear Gellert will make all kinds of changes. And if you'd like to see unprecedented rape, pillaging, and murder, I'd advise you to stand with him."

One of the Ravenclaws paled. "He wouldn't…"

Hermione cut in. "Why do you think there is no information in Britain about his glorious revolution? I assure you, if life were blissful under his rule, he would have reporters with cameras all over the place, capturing it for posterity. The reason he doesn't allow reporters into his country is that there isn't a single village where it would be safe to allow them free reign. His atrocities are everywhere. And if you think that he's somehow change his modus operandi because it's your family he's going to be torturing, then you might want to check into the spell damage ward."

Tom nodded. "If he wins, he will reward a few of the families that support him…though within a couple of years, he'll thin those out and reabsorb their money and lands. He'll tax the rest of the country to the point where we have to take fealty oaths in order to eat…and then he'll call on us when he wants to invade the next country…America, or perhaps Australia. He followed this pattern all the way through Europe. Make no mistake, he won't stop. "

The young men (who were mostly the scions of ancient houses) looked thoughtful.

The leader of the Ravenclaw contingent frowned. "Do you have proof?"

Tom shrugged. "You certainly can see the signs for yourself if you are looking. Ask Abraxas Malfoy. His grandmother is leading the resistance in Bulgaria." He shook his head. "I'm willing to take a wand oath and swear that what I'm telling you is true. I can't reveal my sources, but you know how close Hermione and I are to Albus."

And all of them knew that Albus was spearheading the painfully slow organization of some kind of defense.

There was some foot shuffling. "A wand oath won't be necessary." Odin Nott was firm in his statement, and no one contradicted him.

Hermione put her hand out, palm up. "I know this organization is full of young, untried wizards who have never seen war. I know some would see our support as negligible. But all of you know the truth." She caught the eye of one of the members that she generally disagreed with. "There are generations of Knights, generations who have served and know that sometimes we have to put our political beliefs aside to face a greater threat. Grindelwald is the greatest threat our country has faced in the last thousand years. I'm asking you, all of you, to oppose him however you can. Speak to your families. Contact other generations of the Knights. Our decision can not bind them, but it will indicate that perhaps there is more to the dictator than what they are hearing from carefully placed rumors. Because make no mistake, he has been sowing seeds to destroy us for years. He always intended to take Britain, even in his teens when he visited. Look back at how his movement started. It's all been gossip and rumors and if you ask people at different echelons of society, you'll find that he's promising different things."

One of the Huffelpuffs sighed. "My family believes he is going to negotiate with the Muggle Ministry to set up new magic-only areas."

Another Hufflepuff spoke up. "My father believes that he is going to remove all mudbloods from our society and send them to Australia."

Nott raised a brow. "I've heard rumors that he intends to increase the value of the Galleon."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wonder how they intend to do that? Drive up the price of gold? Maybe by stockpiling all of it in Grindelwald's personal vault?"

Quiet murmurs followed her words.

Tom took pity on them. "He is preying on your weaknesses. He has to, because even with his army, he can't defeat a populace that stands against him."

The first Huffelpuff frowned. "If we oppose him and he wins, he will obliterate us."

Hermione nodded. "That's not the kind of man you want to willingly just hand over your country to. Some of the Baltic countries didn't fight, and he still taxed them into starvation to fund his continuing war. He doesn't care about them, and he won't care about you. If we need change, and I think we do, then we need to bring it into being on our own terms."

Tom put an arm around her waist. "That's what the Knights are here to do after all. Protect and serve the nation. That's why we have nearly a thousand years of tradition. The scroll chose each of you, not because you agreed on every detail, but because it knows that you have the potential to lead this country when dark times threaten it."

Odin Nott cleared his throat. "All in favor of opposing the Dictator Gellert Grindelwald?"

All but two of the Ravenclaws put hands in the air.

Odin continued. "Any opposed to the resolution?"

The Ravenclaws looked at one another, but still didn't raise their hands, effectively abstaining.

Tom nodded lightly to the others and brought up the next item. "This Spring we will be losing two members. I'd like to begin the discussion of invitations with the possible inclusion of Minerva McGonagall…."


	52. Chapter 52

_**AN: This is short. Sorry. I got roped into doing costumes for my daughter's play and I'm swamped.**_

 _ **Also, someone mentioned that the timeline was a little sketchy in places (what year they are and all that). This fic needs a good edit, and it will get one. For that, I'm going to need a beta. It's going to be a significant time commitment because it's more than just copyediting. Editing is a different skill set than writing. If you are interested, please send me a PM.**_

 _ **I am going to do my very best to write a bit more and post it by Wednesday. I had a lot of ground I wanted to cover this week, so I'm disappointed.**_

Gellert knew he had pressed his little Hermione hard her first meeting, so he didn't balk at her declaration that she would see him at Easter.

Of course, he did balk at the prospect of _actually_ waiting that long.

Sergei eyed him with trepidation. "My lord, are you certain it is wise?"

He clapped the large man on the shoulder. "Ah, my friend, what is life without some adventure?"

His loyal personal guard sighed but didn't comment.

Gellert stroked his rather large mutton chop whiskers. He'd opted for transfiguration as opposed to polyjuice. No need to remain in disguise once he had Hermione and Tom by his side some place private.

"I assume that Captain Smith arranged for a private room at the Three Broomsticks as I asked?"

The other man nodded, lips going white. "I don't like you and your heir meeting in enemy territory in the private room of some pub my lord. It's dangerous. If something should happen to both of you Igor is your natural successor."

"And Igor will look like Caligula after Tiberius, I know, my friend. He'd have all of you make war to enslave the muggles and would end will all of us being blown to Avalon with those fascinating new weapons they used on Japan." Gellert smiled and he allowed his eyes to crinkle at the sides as he clapped the other man's arm lightly. "Don't worry. I have no intention of getting caught. I'll have Smith there as backup and Lestrange here in case we need a quick escape."

"She has forgiven the fact that you allowed her to be tortured?"

Gellert rolled his eyes. "She was naked in my bed hours after. And what Tom did to her was hardly torture. More like a bout of stomach flu."

"You delivered her to the boy in a sack my lord. The least she could have expected was rape. And if you remember, you left them in the sacks for hours before hand."

"And then she wasn't tortured or raped. She vomited for twenty minutes. Jean Marie dealt with his torture just fine."

"The girl took his memory and healed his body."

Gellert grinned. "It was rather brilliant. I can't believe a school girl is my perfect spy."

Sergei continued to look worried, but he shut up so Gellert finished his costume and used a portkey to take himself into Hogsmead. Once there, he did a bit of shopping at Honeydukes, visited the book store, and picked up a lovely set of quills as he waited for the children to arrive.

As he expected, the thestral driven carriages trotted into town about eleven and hordes of squirming, squealing children streamed out of the carriages. He noted that Tom and Hermione arrived wearing prefect badges, and he frowned at they seemed to spend most of the first hour supervising the rest of the little monsters. Finally, finally he heard Hermione ask Tom if he was ready for a bit of a drink and perhaps some chips at the pub. They started into the Three Broomsticks, when Gellert 'accidentally' bumped into Hermione and whispered. "The private room, five minutes."

He apologized loudly enough to be heard and not so loudly that he'd alert all and sundry that he was up to something. Then he dusted off his caramel colored coat and headed up the stair.

Hermione was behind him three and a half minutes after he left.

"Oh my, someone is rather forward."

She rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here? If Albus or the Ministry gets word…"

Gellert waved off her worry and poured them each a cup of tea. "Here it's still chilly outside."

Hermione held her cup in her hand but made no move to drink. Tom took his and wandlessly checked it for half a dozen spells as he pretended to blow on it to cool the beverage. Gellert beamed. Such bright children.

"If I were going to poison you, I would have done it without leaving my castle. What have you learned about this spy of Albus'?"

Hermione shrugged, but she finally took a sip of her tea. Her spells had either been undetectable, or she trusted Gellert.

"Albus managed to recruit one of your foot soldiers." Hermione snorted. "Not that it will do him much good." She pushed a stack of letters toward Gellert. "I copied these while Fawkes was on one of his burning days. They are letters that Albus was about to send to Edvard Olivander and to members of the Wizengamot."

She handed him another stack of letters that were folded in a letter to Hermione's aunt. She smirked. "If anyone but you looks at those they'd see recipes for Hogwarts food that I convinced the house elves to part with."

Tom put a hand on her shoulder and smirked. "Not that she intends to cook anything with them."

She looked up at him and for a moment, Gellert's heart contracted at the look they shared. It was pure and something that was only between them, and for a fraction of a second, he could admit to himself that he wanted that. Would have done nearly anything, given up nearly anything to have it.

Then the look was over and the two teens, barely more than children really went back to their normal façade and they spoke of spies and war, with cynical, calculated words.

Hermione handed him another letter. "Here. I asked Albus to tell me about the first time he met you during one of our teas. He found d it too difficult to speak about so he wrote it out. I thought you might enjoy it."

There was lurking kindness in her eyes, but he took the scrap of parchment. Parchment Albus had personally written that scrawl that had once been so familiar to him.

The opening words were like a sword through the heart.

" _The day I met Gellert Grindelwald, I wondered if I had mistakenly encountered a living breathing angel….in a matter of months, I realized how wrong I was. That one moment, the moment I met him, is seared into my memory and it haunts my dreams to this day…"_


	53. Chapter 53

_**AN: As promised. A bit more for this week. I will try to update again on Sunday (if all goes well, my daughter's musical debuts on Saturday, so that means less time to write this week).**_

Abraxas bit out a growl when Bassett asked to touch his wife's gravid belly on the fourth visit.

The man just had to push. From an intellectual standpoint, Abraxas knew that it would do the child no harm, and that Helga resented Bassett's touch much less than his own. The Frenchman could fawn all over her and she never stiffened. It was mad that she could trust a bounder and a cad over him.

In any case, he found himself escorting Bassett out of his home with his jaw locked because he didn't know what he might say or if he might start cursing the man, either figuratively or literally.

Bassett seemed quite content because he'd managed to finally get under Abraxas' skin.

Helga seemed petulant. "He might never come back if you treat him like that."

Abraxas felt his eyes flash, and for once, his guilt didn't keep him from speaking the words that raced to his tongue. "I brought your lover here for your comfort, but please don't expect me to remain calm when you allow him to touch my son through your skin. Even I haven't been allowed to feel the child kick and suddenly you are dragging his hand close?" He heard the pain in his own words, but he didn't care. He was doing his best with a horrible situation, damn it.

Helga seemed startled at his admission.

She motioned him forward. "If you want to feel him come here. He's currently very upset with the size of the Quidditch pitch inside mommy and he's kicking the kneezel out of me to protest."

He placed wondering hands over her dress and did indeed feel tiny feet kicking rapidly under his hand.

He couldn't stop the grin from spreading to his face.

Helga didn't look at all displeased at his interest. She circled her hands around her belly protectively and began to hum and rock a bit in her chair. Eventually she sighed with relief. "I don't know how we'll manage two more months! He's getting so big. I thought I felt like a whale before!"

Abraxas smiled at her. She was more relaxed now that he wasn't keeping her completely isolated, and she didn't press the boundaries that Abraxas had set. She rarely even tossed a teapot at him these days, but he wasn't entirely certain that the lack of teapots wasn't due to her anemia during this late stage. She nodded off in the chair and he covered her with a light blanket and called an elf to watch over her. She napped nearly constantly. The healers said she was fine and the midwife assured him that it was quite common.

He intended to finance a study about it and see if some kind of solution couldn't be found.

He found his mother in the solarium, arranging a light tea to her satisfaction. She was surprised when Abraxas strode in. "I thought that Helga still had company?" They had agreed that the visits were best left supervised.

Abraxas felt a light blush on his ears. His mother noticed immediately of course. She didn't even have to ask, he just blurted it all out. "The little bastard was touching her belly and cooing over the kicks and I tossed him out."

"Literally?"

"Nearly. But Helga let me feel the child kicking afterward."

"That was kind of her."

Abraxas nodded happily, and then the fear he'd kept so close to his heart leaked out. "Do you think I'll be able to be a father…a real father I mean. A good one?"

Helga smiled and added another sugar to his tea. He had a sweet tooth and she was forever trying to limit his sugar…as a child, he had only 'eared' sugar cubes with extraordinary bits of scholarship or magic.

"I expect you will make your share of mistakes my son. Everyone does. But you will not make the mistakes that I made or that your father made. That's all a parent can hope for really. That their child learns from their mistakes and doesn't repeat them. I know that you will love your son, and you will try to make this world a better place for him. That's a wonderful start."

 **TMRTMR**

If there was one thing that Tom loved, it was magic. Hauling three dozen live chickens down into the Chamber without it would have been a feat worthy of Hercules.

As it was, he was still sweating and cursing under his breath as he released the stupid creatures into the chamber. 'Little Mari' caught two within as many seconds using her sense of hearing and smell alone. The snake actually smiled blissfully as she swallowed the birds. " _So good. It's been so long since I've eaten so well Tom_."

Tom grinned. Hermione was at tea with Albus (who wasn't aware of the large-potentially man-eating snake under his school).

He ran his hand over her scales. She was always cold to the touch. She would enjoy living somewhere she could sit in the sun and warm herself every morning. He cast warming charm around her and watched in fascination as her body relaxed further.

She slithered around, swallowing the chickens whole as she found them, but she never opened up her eyes. Tom had his goggles, but who wanted to be the first to try something like that?

He chuckled savagely as he pictured shoving Lestrange, or better yet, Grindelwald in front of Mari's deadly stare, just to test the goggles of course.

He allowed himself a short moment to bask in the fantasy.

Still, that wouldn't be fair to Mari and his little snake had a very sensitive nature. (He thought this as she hissed with enjoyment at finding yet another chicken).

"Mari, I have a favor to ask."

"Yes Tom?"

"I'd like to get some of your venom for a project."

 **HJGHJG**

She snapped the quill in her hand and didn't even bother to repair it immediately.

Tom was right. She denied it when he brought his concerns to her, made more and more complicated equations to try and find a work-around…but she eventually had to admit it. The Philosopher's Stone was a trap. All the gold and life one could ever want, but at the cost of a hereditary legacy and your magical power.

It was hard, very hard to give up this dream. She'd held it longer than Tom had, and while she hadn't hinged all of her ideas on it, some of her plans would require vast amounts of gold to finance. It was hard to do any real good in the world without power, and whatever else gold was, it made things happen…

But, she'd never wanted the stone so she could live forever. She'd already endured a life and a bit of a second one. She wasn't even sure some days how long she was required to stay in this body before she could move on.

But Tom…Tom would want to live as long as he could, and she wanted to give that to him in a way that wouldn't be detrimental to his soul.

She heard noise before she saw the door open, and in that half-second, she managed to cast a quick charm over her notes.

Minerva was breathing heavy as she entered the empty classroom that Hermione had appropriated.

"Something happened. Albus wants you."

She packed her books with a wave of her wand and raced to his office.

"Tom?"

Albus shook his head. "Tom is fine as far as I know. No, something is happening with Gellert."

He held up a note from the Ministry.

Hermione's eyes widened as she read it.

"All of them?"

"We can't know how many exactly. They were delivered to the Ministry by portkey. Over a hundred foot soldiers, all with their hearts and tongues removed."

Hermione hung her head. "He is sending a message."

"Undoubtedly."

Their eyes met, and between them was the knowledge that whatever else this was, Gridelwald's destruction of so many of his own marked appoint where the war became more dangerous than ever.

 **ADADAD**

Albus pulled the girl into his arms, her head against his chest since she didn't quite reach his chin.

"You can't go back."

She shook her head. "I have to."

He shook her a little. "You cannot go back Hermione. Think of Tom. Even if you don't take him with you, think of what Gellert would do if he caught on. What that would do to Tom."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Think about how many people will die if we don't know when those portkeys will activate or if we can't send food to the areas where he is cracking down?"

Albus felt salty hot tears sting his eyes. "He won't stop Hermione. He's too far gone. I told you, he can't play the suitor for long. He will hurt you, and he will do it in such a way that he destroys you."

There was something that he often noticed in her eyes…something that was not in the least child-like. Something strong and fierce.

"Perhaps it is time to give Gellert a new obsession."

Albus frowned.

"Tom and I need to be irreplaceable. He has the Hallows, and I will not be the vessel that brings whatever spawn he has in mind into the world. So he needs a new obsession, one I can work on that will make me untouchable. I think he should make a philosopher's stone."

For the first time in a very long time, Albus found himself repeating (if only in his head) one of his brother's favorite sayings from when they were children: _Holy Mother of Merlin on a stick_.


	54. Chapter 54

_**AN: Happy Sunday!**_

To say that Perenelle and Nicholas were pleased when Hermione explained her plan to them was like saying the sun was a wee bit chilly.

"You can't expose the ancient secrets of alchemy to him for a lark!" The normally easy-going Nicholas was red-faced and he was practically snarling. "There is a method! Alchemists through the generations have trod the same path that led to the same realization, to choices that were made…"

His eyes slid to his wife and he flinched. Perenelle took his hand, and then turned to Tom and Hermione, straitening her already decent posture as if she were steeling herself for something painful. Her voice was soft, but clear. "Nicholas and I were nearly done with our work on the stone; we'd even worked out the plans for the elixir, when I began to weaken…the Black Death could affect even wizards and perhaps I spent too much time in crypts looking for scrolls from the past…" Her lips twitched. "In any case, as I was dying my husband finished the final steps, knowing what we would lose, but preferring that to losing me." Her voice caught and Tom realized how much the older woman had wanted children, and how much the brilliant witch had loved her magic. Nicholas took her hand and kissed the back of it sweetly. Perenelle took a shuddering breath. "Despite what it steals, the stone is a great gift…Offering all of this to Gellert Grindelwald…"

"Would be disastrous if we actually allowed him to finish." Tom broke in with a sudden idea, because he desperately wanted to wash the pain off of Perenelle's face. He wouldn't call her a mother, exactly, but she was important to him. She filled a void he hadn't even known was there. So Tom did what he did best. He slithered around the rules and made them work for him. "But what if we could replicate the process enough so that he thought we were on the right path? We could delay him for years. It certainly took Hermione and I long enough to figure out the pitfalls, and that was with hints from the two of you." The elder couple looked at each other in amusement.

Perenelle leaned over from her chair and ran her hand over his curls. "Tiny hints, hints that hundreds of others have been given in the same stage. The two of you are extraordinary." The purring satisfaction in her voice made Tom grin.

Hermione was chewing her lip as she considered his proposal. "Of course we shouldn't give him the secret except as a last resort. Giving him long life and access to gold is repugnant, but he couldn't make gold or the elixir in prison, so he wouldn't have access to the stone long before he was arrested or killed. It would take his magical power, and without powerful spells, he'd never be able to keep his army together. His entire empire would fall apart."

Perenelle's brows beetled. "Don't you think that the other plans you have in place are enough?" She didn't know the details, but Tom was certain she had some idea of what Albus was orchastraiting. He didn't know specifics because they'd all agreed that the less they knew, they less value there was in torturing them. Albus had even pointed out that know itself would be suspicious. It might alert Gellert that he and Hermione were more than they seemed.

Tom answered Perenelle with appropriate solemnity. "No. We need to have a good reason for Hermione to be untouchable. He needs incentive to behave and we are afraid without a powerful carrot he will move forward with some plan to marry her."

Perenelle gaped. "But you said he was pretending to be her father. How in Circe's name does he expect to explain that to the rank and file?"

Hermione's voice was very small and sad. "He doesn't. He thinks they are too afraid of him, too debauched to worry about it."

Nicholas swallowed hard. "Merlin. Are they?"

Tom shrugged. "Some of them are, perhaps forty percent of them are not. And right now those people, the ones that don't have a moral objection to Gellert doing whatever horrific thing that pops into his mind, are running half of Europe and committing atrocities that may never be documented."

Perenelle touched her husband's hand. "You can't give him the real path to the stone. But there is another way, a way that's misled many witches and wizards looking for the easy path. The stone will look real and will feel real, but the draft you brew will be a deadly poison."

Nicholas smirked. "Only produces something like leprechaun's gold as well…it turns back to the base before sunset the next day."

Tom caught Hermione's eye and they smiled.

"That sounds just about perfect. We can 'research' up to that stone without leading him to the real one. Is it possible for him to make the connection to the real stone from what he'll learn in this process?"

Perenelle shrugged. "It might be. It's very close. All it takes are a few miscalculations and you end with disaster and death instead of wealth and near immortality."

Tom gave the older woman a fierce hug. "Even better. The Slytherin in me adores plausible deniability. If need be Hermione and I can 'suggest' a new line of research in the end, but this will buy us much needed time."

Nicholas flinched. "They are coming here, aren't they?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't think we can stop without some kind of pitched battle on British soil now. Even if we eliminated Gellert, his closest lieutenants would bring the war here, because the alternative is to allow the large standing army to do what they like with the people they've already conquered…."

Tom flinched. "And they have been taught and trained in the foulest violence imaginable. Keeping them on a leash and away from any populace you want to be productive would be imperative for any ruler. They are a tool that will eventually turn on their master if they aren't fed with bloody violence."

The two alchemists moved closer together. Nicholas sighed. "As you have guessed, our magic is tied to the stone. My wife and I are almost useless in a fight. But I have centuries of book and there are spells that have been forgotten, traps that might be set."

Tom grinned at the older man and reached out to shake his hand. "Anything you can do would be helpful. And Hermione and I will add whatever protections spells that we can find to your home."

Perenelle chuckled. "You needn't worry about that. Albus has us under a number of powerful protections."

Hermione grinned at Tom. 'Of course he does. We'll discuss it with him. We don't want Gellert to take it into his head to steal your stone instead. That would give him the ability to make gold, and the elixir without the side effects of actually making the stone."

Perenelle's face turned positively canny. "Do you think so?"

Nicholas chuckled. "Let's just say that the idea of stealing the stone is an old one, and it's never gone well for anyone."

 **HJGHJG**

As they flooed back into Albus' office from their night-time trip to see the Flamels, Hermione tugged Tom's hand into her own.

She murmured reassuring words to Albus and he told them to quickly make their way back to their dormitories.

But as they left the office, she pulled Tom into the seventh floor corridor instead.

He didn't argue as she pulled him along, but she could feel his questions in the tension of his hand. She ignored the silent questions as she paced three times outside the Room of Requirement.

A small, warm room was revealed, something in between the stark elegance of the Slytherin dorms and the homey clutter of the Gryffindor common room. Tom's eyes flitted to the bed in the corner. She looked up at him and shrugged. "I didn't want to be away from you tonight." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

"You know I'm always happiest when I can hold you, but what brought this on?"

Hermione slid onto the leather sofa in front of the cheerful fire and began digging the makings of tea out of her bag.

"I wonder if I've done the right thing for you. Getting involved in all of this? I worry."

Tom stroked her hand meditatively. "What brought this on?"

"You mean beside the fact that we're about to lie to the most powerful dark wizard in the world?"

Tom's lips twitched. "Yes, well, beside that."

She loved that half-joking tone he used when he was inviting her to share her worries. He never pushed. If she didn't want to talk about it, he would let it go. It was perhaps the most surprising thing about him. If she'd thought about a young Tom Riddle, she would have expected a boy who couldn't stand a puzzle unsolved, who had to poke at everything. And Tom generally managed to find out anything he really wanted to know…but he never pressed her. It was a mark of his affection and respect.

This time however, she wanted and needed to let him in.

"I just have moments where I realize how deep these waters are, that's all. Tonight I needed to feel your arms around me."

Tom hesitated. "You…you don't see anything happening to you do you?"

She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. Sight. Her. It was the most preposterous thing about the whole situation, that Hermione Granger, champion of logic and facts should be forced into claiming the sketchy unreliable study of divination as a refuge!

Tom looked positively murderous, so Hermione cupped his cheek. "I don't see a future for me. I don't have any new 'visions' for lack of a better term. I would have lived a long life with a husband and children…and that future is lost to me…but I don't morn it as much now. I have as much of a chance to make a future for myself as anyone."

"As long as we don't get ourselves killed before we take our NEWTs."

Hermione smirked. "Yes, that is always a problem for me."

Tom raised a brow. "Always?"

She cursed her slip of the tongue. She wasn't up to verbal sparring, that was certain, so lacking that, she dropped a soft kiss on his lips, unwilling to explain.

He sighed and looked into her eyes for a long moment. He wrapped her in his arms so tightly she could barely breathe.

"You aren't allowed to die."

She kissed him again. "Everyone dies. It's not something I fear Tom, and you shouldn't either. It's just part of living. Besides, I 'm pretty certain death isn't an ending.

He raised a brow and pulled her a few scant inches from his chest so he could see her face. "What degree of certainty?"

"99.95%." She shrugged. "If I'm not right, I'm mad as a hatter, and reality is just a construct in my head, while my body is dying or lying in a coma somewhere."

He chuckled. "If you are mad, I am as well."

She snuggled back into his arms. "As long as we are together."

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert fidgeted at his desk as he waited for Hermione to arrive. The Easter Holiday was upon them, and he was eager for their next visit.

She swept into his study like a whirlwind, with no Tom trailing behind her. A fair bet then that she suspected her news would upset him. The girl placed less value on her own life than on the boy's, much to Gellert's amusement and slight jealousy. Was it too much to ask to be the very center of her universe?

He smirked at his own nearly-sarcastic remark and then shuffled some papers on his desk so she could see that his wand wasn't in his hand.

She put her hands on her hip (adorable!) and frowned down at him (not too far down, she was still rather short).

"Is there something amiss my dear Miss Granger?"

She rolled her eyes. "Albus know that you've been taking Vitalis Mortis."

Gellert frowned. Albus knew that? How unexpected.

"And how did Albus come to that conclusion?"

She handed him half a letter. "I haven't the foggiest, but he is trying to find a way to report it to your populace."

Gellert snorted. "He is apparently under the mistaken impression I care what my populace thinks."

Hermione sighed. "I know you don't, but I also know that news like this might make the upper echelons of your core support wary. I considered obliviating Albus, but he'd already talked to Edvard Olivander and Malfoy about his theory."

"Which is only a theory."

"Are you using it, or something like it?"

"I use many potions my dear…"

She gave him a hard look. "Yes, but only a few of them could be as dark as one that steals the life from the relatives of those who died in your service. How many war widows have died of 'grief'?"

"Not as many as you might imagine, though there have been a number of stillborns and squibs."

She smiled, suddenly, beautifully mischievous. Gellert found himself leaning forward.

"What if I could offer you a better solution?"

He smirked and held out his hands. "I'm waiting."

"The Philosopher's stone."

Gellert snorted, not an elegant sound, but there you had it. "If the Hallows are a legend, the stone is out of reach, unless you intend to steal the one from the Flamels'."

"Does everyone in the world know that they have one? Never mind. No, I don't intend to steal it. I intend to make one, and I will share the elixir with you and Tom…and Albus if we can convince him to join us."

Gellert shook his head. Precocious children were so adorable. "I don't think you realize the amount of work you'd need…"

"I've been avidly searching for the secrets since we started Hogwarts. Don't forget what I am Grindelwobbly. Why do you think Tom ad I spend so much time with the Flamels? I had every intention of making the stone."

"You just intend to share immortality with the rest of us?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but the idea that anyone capable of making the stone would share it was absurd.

She shrugged. "I do." Her eyes lit with juvenile excitement. "Think of it. We could rule for thousands of years and bring about real change, and better yet, enforce it, guide it. I always intended to share it with Tom…anyone who wishes to live forever alone is a madman."

"And what would keep me from stealing your little trinket once you create it."

"The stone dies with the maker. If you steal it and I die, you'll die with me." She raised a brow. "I think having it would keep everyone honest."

"Meaning it would keep me in line so that you and your so-precious Tom were untouchable."

Her face turned stone-like. "Call it insurance. You won't be able to kill us, we'll share the power, and with the four of us ruling together we can be one happy immortal family."

"I'd need some insurance of my own my dear girl."

She looked wary. "What kind of insurance?"Gellert grinned. "I will swear an unbreakable vow that I will never kill you or your beloved Tom, but you must allow me to be the one who casts the stone."

Her face turned red. "After all my hard work.."

"I worked for decades building this empire. You can't think that I'd let a brat not yet sixteen years old take it from me?"

Her lips thinned. "You'll swear that you'll never kill us or harm us?"

Gellert looked into her innocent eyes. Still such a child despite her visions. "I will. As long as your ascertain that you can bring the stone to fruition isn't just a fairy tale?"

Her jaw clinched. "It will take some work, but I'm close. I wouldn't have brought this to you if I wasn't."

Gellert splayed his hands over his desk, caressing it. "Excellent. How soon my child?"

She shrugged one shoulder and looked down. "Half a year, no more. I need funds for the ingredients though."

Gellert gave her his best shark smile. "Of course."

 **HJGHJG**

She landed in Hogsmead after her meeting with Gellert with her hands shaking and her palms damp. She'd known she couldn't make it too easy for him, but she'd feared her acting wasn't up for the challenge. Thankfully his greed had overridden his caution.


	55. Chapter 55

_**AN: Another busy weekend! It seems that's all I ever have these days. For those that asked, my daughter's musical went very well indeed. She didn't have a speaking role, but she was the very best cop/poor person on the stage IMHO).**_

 _ **I also finally watched the Season finale of Sherlock (if you haven't watched that show, you should give it a try: the story telling in the show is flawless.)**_

 _ **As always, the world belongs to JKR, the mistakes are mine.**_

 _ ***drum roll please* And now, the birth of Lucius Malfoy!**_

As he stood awkwardly outside the birthing chamber while harried-looking healer's assistants and house elves rushed around, it occurred to Abraxas Malfoy that he had gone about his marriage in entirely the wrong way.

The past few weeks Helga had been remarkably pleasant, almost friendly. He fingered the morocco leather jewelry case in his pocket. It was traditional to give each Malfoy wife jewels at each birth. This served on many levels. A woman's jewels were almost always her own property, and she was able to sell or gift them independently from her husband's estate and without his input. It was also an outward show of the value a Malfoy placed on his wife and the wealth that was available to protect her.

It wasn't a tradition he'd ever given any thought to before.

His mother had mentioned that he needed to choose an heirloom piece at the very least, but as he'd searched through the boxes of gems, most of them seemed too gaudy and old fashioned for Helga. So he'd ventured into Diagon Alley to a shop that used Muggle techniques and some of the fashionable enamel jewelry.

He'd chosen a large, flawless diamond with matching tiara for the 'official' gift, it would impress in the right circles, show them a united front, however fractured he and Helga might be behind closed doors. But there was a second necklace, just a trifle really. A locket where a mother could keep a lock of baby hair. It was enameled on the front, a bright scene of a mother bird feeding her nestlings in a cherry tree. He'd liked it when he saw it and picked it up on a whim.

His son was taking far too long to come into the world. As the hours passed, he kept a silent vigil. The tell-tale signs of a silencing charm hid anything that might have revealed what was actually going on inside the room.

Pacing was below his dignity as a Malfoy, but he fidgeted to and fro despite his early training.

Hours passed. When his feet felt numb he conjured a chair. Eventually one of the elves came and offered him a carafe of wine. He shook his head and ordered tea, imagining his mother's reaction if he were foxed out of his mind when it came time to hold his son.

More time passed. He wrote a note to Tom and Hermione, more for something productive to do than with the idea of actually calling them to the manor before the child was born. They'd agreed to be Godparents, (though it was unusual to name two godparents that weren't out of Hogwarts, even in pureblood circles). He was a little fuzzy on when they should be alerted, and besides, they were doubtlessly in class.

Evening shadows began to darken the hallway where he'd decided to wait. It was a bit foolish, he supposed. An elf could get him from anywhere in the house in an instant, and Merlin knew he couldn't hear anything by sitting outside the door.

He stood and it felt good to stretch his legs after sitting in one place for most of the day.

His eyes flicked to the door and he stared at it as if by doing so he could force it to open to reveal Helga holding his perfectly healthy son, his mother beaming in the background.

He shook his head and called an elf. "Trill, if you would be so kind, please have dinner delivered to my study. And I wish to be informed if anything changes in there." He jerked his head to the birthing room as the little elf tried to hide a snicker at the large man's inability to mention the reality of birth.

The door flew open.

Helena rushed out and stopped, as if shocked to see Abraxas so close.

She made a motion with her hand. "Hurry!" Then without further explanation, she turned and burst back into the room.

Abraxas could hear a faint wailing sound on the other side and he rushed into the room, with no thought at all to his dignity.

Helga was sitting up, looking down at the pale child in her arms.

Abraxas moved closer, careful not to disturb either of them. "A boy?"

She huffed affectionately toward the child and gave him a wan smile. "Was there ever any doubt with the Malfoy curse being what it is?" Her eyes slid back to the boy as the activity in the room took on an unnatural hum.

Abraxas finally looked up as a jet of green light hit Helga. The elder healer muttered something to Helena quietly.

"Is there something wrong?"

His son was squealing like a tiny dictator. Helga slumped further into the pillows. "No, there's nothing wrong with him. Take him please." He was nervous of course, but his mother had instructed him fully on the correct way to hold an infant, and Helga looked so frail there…

He never realized how easy it was to fall completely in love with someone until he was holding that tiny warm weight in his hands.

The boy still had blood on him for Merlin's sake. The cleaning spell had been done haphazardly…as if the assistant were busy with something else; despite being known as some of the best in the business…he would have brought in nothing else for his wife, no matter how he felt about her.

She looked like she was falling asleep, so he nudged her and wandlessly pulled the small trinket out of his robes.

"What's this?"

"I'm sure you know the Malfoys always give their wives a gift at the birth of a child…and I bought you an impressively gaudy diamond single and tiara for later, but I saw this and thought of you….so…" He found it hard to speak.

She unwrapped it with clumsy, tired hands.

"Oh."

He couldn't tell what she was thinking, so he stated babbling. "It's just a trinket of course, nothing impressive. I can have the elves haul in the diamonds if you like, but we might want to wait until the room clears a bit, as I mentioned they are fairly gaudy…"

"I love it." She smiled softly at him as he held their son, and twined the chain around her fingers. "I'm glad I had the chance to know you Abraxas. You….you are a good man."

He felt a damnable blush creep up his cheeks.

The healer's assistant held out her arms for the baby. "You should…speak with your wife for a moment. We will take care of the child, find a wet nurse."

Abraxas frowned. "I thought you didn't want…?" He stopped mid-sentence. He'd noticed of course. How bloody the room was, how many bottles of potions were empty on every flat surface.

Helga was nearly blue. She took his hand with the chain still laced around her fingers. "It's not your fault. It's some kind of curse. They have people from St. Mungo's coming…" Her lips were quite blue now.

"What can I do?"

She snorted. "Take care of my son Abraxas. Raise him to be a man we can both be proud of. You and I…we didn't deal well with the hand we were dealt, but what we came from made it worse. Made us worse. Protect him from that if you can."

"Isn't there anything…?"

She shook her head. "If there is, they will do it. It's something my brother caught me with, before he died. He knew." Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

Abraxas shook her. "No. Don't do this."

"I don't think the power of positive thinking is going to help Abraxas." Her voice held an edge of her old ire.

"Stay alive. Just for a little while. Can you try? Please? For Lucius? They'll bring him back in a moment. You want to see him again, right?"

"Yes…"

He kissed her forehead. "Stay there. I'll be back."

With that Abraxas shamelessly used his privilege to floo directly into Albus' office. "Get Tom and Hermione and come to the manor. A curse is killing Helga." His eyes pleaded and Albus frowned.

"We aren't healers…"

"But the healers haven't helped. Can you come? Please?"

Albus Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Though hell if I know what we'll tell Dippett."

"Tell him I'm donating new greenhouses that should shut him up. Hoppart complains about them constantly and he's more willing to oblige when you remove a thorn from his side."

Albus was gathering a few vials as he sent a bloody patronus to alert Tom and Hermione.

"Go on. We will be right behind you. Find out from the healers what the spell is and we shall see what we can do. I must warn you though…"

"I know Albus, you can't make promises, but I have to try…I owe her that much."

With that he tossed a handful of powder into the flames and stepped out of the roaring flames into his own study.

He caught the head healer as the man was scurrying down the hall. "What was the curse?" The man's robes were balled in his fist. The old healer blanched. "We don't know. Some kind of curse we didn't catch in the prenatal examination. They used to be common in Italy…natal curses didn't activate until the woman was with child. She would die, her husband might be blamed and then the child and heir was left unprotected. It was often the godparents that cast them so they would have access to the family's fortune."

"Damn it." He ran to the library and began summoning books as quickly as his wand could move.

Hermione found him there moments later. "What was it?"

"Natal curse."

Tom walked in. "Albus went to the birthing room with Helena."

Abraxas nodded as he frantically searched through the books.

 **HGHGHG**

She cursed under her breath. The person that invented natal curses was one sick berk. She hoped he was roasting someplace warm.

She summoned a pile of her own books and began to take notes as Tom began to peruse the curse-breaking section.

She had never seen a natal curse in real life. They were designed to act once the child was safely removed from the womb. They were most often used by husbands that wanted to remove a wife, but in this case, she rather feared it was someone who wanted to remove Abraxas as well and control the Malfoy fortune through infant Lucius.

Abraxas made a slight noise. "It says that each one is individual. Helga thought it was something her brother did. So if she's dying, I wonder if it's mimicking the method she used?"

Tom snorted. "Dragon Pox?"

"She was turning blue."

Hermione stilled. "Not Dragon Pox then. Are you certain it was him and not someone who would like to steal your wealth?"

Abraxas paled. "My cousins would do anything at all get their paws on the fortune, but I've already named the two of you Godparents."

Hermione nodded. "So let's go with the theory that it was the brother. Did you know him Abraxas?"

"Not really. He was a bully and a snob and Slytherin House was well rid of him. He was in seventh year when I was a first year."

A house elf popped into the room. "Master and Miss are requested in the birthing room. Tipsy will take you." Then, without a by-your-leave the little elf apparated them smoothly into the room where Helga looked more than half-dead.

Albus was frowning as the remaining healers looked on mutinously from a corner. "Hermione, please look at this. I've never seen anything like it."

"And why is a student checking my patient?"

"Obviously because you were going to sit here and let her die rather than try to save her." She looked down her nose at him as she cast the same charm Albus had used moments before. The results were…odd.

No. It couldn't be…

"Ah! Tom!" Tom raised an inquiring eyebrow.

She grinned and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "Take away her memory of killing her brother. Remove it completely, and everything surrounding it."

"That's a huge…"

"But it will save her life!"

Tom didn't question her.. He simply pulled Helga's bloodshot eye open and dove into her mine, obliterating her memories with ruthless efficiency.

As Hermione suspected the blue tint left Helga's body slowly. Albus raised his eyebrow. "The natal curse was hooked into a guilt-based detection charm that limited oxygen when she felt guilty. By removing the memories…"

"You remove her guilt." Abraxas' eyes flitted to the healers. With a vicious flick, he obliviated them. His mother rolled her eyes at him but she began herding the starry-eyed healers out of the room.

He turned to his friends. "If anyone asks, we called in a specialist, and I only called the two of you over because I was excited for you to meet my son."

Tom rubbed his temples as he pulled out of the blond woman's mind. "It's done, but we should remove that curse as quickly as the cursebreakers can get it done. She's vulnerable until then." He went white around the lips.

"I don't blame her for killing her brother a bit. I saw…" He shook his head. "The bastard would have never let her go. He was going to use her as a doormat the rest of her life and no one was going to stop him. So she stopped him herself. She doesn't remember any of it though. I left anything that didn't make her feel guilty so she's still exactly the same woman you married. I'd watch out for teapots when you tell her that you had her memories taken, even if it was to save her life." Tom grinned and brushed her hair back off her face. "I also smoothed out the bit where you kept her imprisoned during her pregnancy, because it wouldn't make sense, so she thinks that the healers just kept her from doing anything out of an abundance of caution."

Abraxas nodded as tom took Hermione into his arms. "She hasn't _changed_ though Abraxas." Hermione caught his meaning without effort. "If you are in love with her…"

The blond shook his head. "I'm not. But…I think I would like to make an ally out of her rather than an enemy."

Helena returned and put an arm around her son. "I'm proud of you. I caught the assistant before she left the nursery and the older healer as well. Little Lucius is with the elves."

She allowed Abraxas a long moment to hug his mother and to look down at his rosy, healthy-looking wife.

Then she smirked. "So when can I see my godson?"


	56. Chapter 56

_**AN: I'm so sorry I missed last week's update. I've had the flu and I complicated it with trying to work by taking meds and just soldiering on. So, since I didn't rest, I'm still sick and hacking, and I sound like death. The good news is that no one at the office wants me there, but since they made me feel like I couldn't stay home when it was just starting up, I'm not missing a day. (I'm really not very nice.)**_

Tom cringed behind the thick curtain that hid his identity from the members the Wizengamot as he probed their minds. A travesty of a Rube-Goldberg device did impressively complicated-looking thing outside his nook; billowing steam and making various clicking, clacking, and whooshing noises; effectively hiding any small sounds he might make even without silencing charms.

Albus, behind the curtain, pretending to run his new, ingenious, mind reading machine, noticed his expression with an odd mix of hope and despair. Tom shook his head to the unasked question. "He isn't the leak, though you might take a look at his expense reports and find out why they hell there is a brothel on Diagon Alley over a reputable watch repair shop."

Albus winced, but he made a note on a list that was depressingly long despite the lack of any tie to Grindelwald.

He sent a pink jet of steam up by pulling a brass lever and Edvard motioned the member away. They had convinced the poor fools that a new magical machine was testing them. It was the only way to convince them to allow their minds to be searched, and afterward Albus promised he would dismantle his 'wonderful invention'. A number of the Wizengamot members actually objected to that, but Albus managed to talk them around, mentioning how desperately expensive the thing was to maintain. "Runs on pure gold you know." Tom was glad he hadn't been there for that meeting. Albus would have made a fine grifter in another life with his fine appreciation for 'alternative truth' and his ready stream of words.

It wasn't easy, even with the participants being mostly easy to read, to go into so many minds in so short a time. Edvard had complained that it couldn't be done. Albus had disagreed, and Tom wondered if Albus' true genius wasn't in figuring out exactly how far he could push people without breaking them. In the end frustrations ran high, but Tom peeped into each and every mind.

Albus sipped a cup of very strong tea while Tom massaged his temples in Ollivander's office.

The pale man scratched his quill as he made his final notes. "So five of the supposedly 'secure' group leaked the information to others, but none gave the information directly to Grindelwald. That's something I suppose. What about the general assembly?"

Tom winced. Albus flipped through his notes, taking a quick tally. "Sixteen are in Grindelwald's pocket. Another ten are sympathizers. None of them have any idea what he really stands for or what he'll do once he invades."

Tom stopped listening. He closed his eyes as his head began to pound and found a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. Olivander shrugged in his bloodless way. "If you do a grown wizard's work you should have a grown wizard's drink at the end of the day to ease the ache in your head. Purely medicinal of course."

Tom smirked as he took a sip. "Of course. And thank you. It will help."

The older man nodded. "I'm well aware. I can't even imagine the strain of reading all of those minds. I tried to do ten in one night once on a case and I woke up in St. Mungo's."

Tom shrugged, trying to hide how pleased he was at the complement from the head of the Auror department. "It's not anything I worked to achieve, just a gift I was born with."

"Doesn't make it any less useful lad. Drink up and you and Albus can floo back to Hogwarts. It's close to OWL testing, I don't want to ruin your chances at high marks."

Albus chortled around his own whiskey. "The OWLS will be something less than a challenged for Mr. Riddle and Miss Granger. I expect the witches and wizards administering the tests will be quite impressed. Either of them could easily pass their NEWTS at this very moment."

Edvard looked mildly impressed but unsurprised.

Tom changed the subject because he was in very real danger of blushing. "The real question is, how are we going to use the traitors and the moles now that we've discovered them?"

The other two men looked at him with their mouths hanging open. He raised a brow. "What were you going to do? Toss them out and send them to Azkaban?"

Olivander nodded slowly.

Tom cursed. "You'd be missing a brilliant opportunity! If you leave them in place you can control the ebb and flow of the information. In between them and Hermione, you can control what he knows and when he knows it! You can't buy that kind of advantage in a war. I'd get rid of one or two of the sloppy ones, just to put a scare into the whole flock and also a couple who aren't associated with Gellert at all, perhaps those with other activities that are objectionable. That way you look fallible. He won't know your true strength until it is much too late."

Albus was staring at him like it was Christmas. "That's practically Machiavellian."

Olivander broke into a rare grin. "It's beautiful. It will take a great deal of cunning, but it can turn the tide of war in our favor."

The way the two men beamed at him made Tom take a nervous gulp from his drink. As he felt the heat rise in his cheeks, he realized he was no longer merely in danger of blushing.

 **TMRTMR**

When they floo'd back after a long evening, they were met by a rather full office.

Headmaster Dippet seemed to be in fine form; glass of whiskey in his hand sloshing as he gestured unsteadily, pawing Professor Merrythought without noticing her look of utter indifference. Hermione held a very blond infant and Abraxas tried to extract his hand from a beaming headmaster.

"We've needed the updated greenhouses since I was a lad Mr. Malfoy. It's really quite generous of you…" The obviously tipsy man finally noticed Albus and Tom's arrival. "Albus! I hope you don't mind. When the wards alerted me that young Malfoy came to visit, I dropped everything and brought along professor Merrythought and a bottle of the 1896…" He looked around. "What? We haven't finished it yet have we?"

Malfoy seemed to be trying to hold back a smirk. "Not at all Headmaster." He pulled a large and nearly-empty bottle from below a pile of papers. "It must have slipped under there."

The old man blinked owlishly at the younger man as Albus rushed in. "Yes, it was quite generous of Mr. Malfoy to commission the new greenhouses sir. Isn't that right Professor Merrythought?"

The old woman shrugged and then nodded, somewhat absently. "Someone should get Dippet to his rooms before he disgraces the school. The fool never could hold his alcohol."

Albus seemed taken aback by the Professor's tone and practical reminder. A house elf was called and managed to coax the headmaster toward his rooms by using the bottle of whiskey as bait.

The old witch shook her head as he stumbled off with the whiskey floating in front of him like an odd carrot. She turned to Albus and stuck out a long finger. "Now young man, it's past curfew. I won't take points from Gryffindor this time since you were with the headmaster but you need to wrap it up and get to your dorm. Her eye fell on Lucius gurgling in Hermione's arms.

She muttered as she left the room. "By Merlin, the first years look younger every year."

Albus and Abraxas caught each other's eyes and burst into laughter which would have alerted the Defense professor…if Hermione hadn't shot a quick silencing charm at the door.

Abraxas sunk into a chair. "I thought they would never leave. I brought Lucius along so I'd have an excuse to see both of you."

Tom grinned at the baby in his girlfriend's arms. "He's so tiny."

Hermione smiled up at him. "He's three weeks old. They are pretty fragile at this stage." Tom, who had been leaning in to get a better look at his godson, hopped back like a cat that had licked a jellyfish.

Hermione's eyes sparkled and Lucius cooed from the cradle of her arms. "It's fine. Babies like being touched, they need human interaction. You won't hurt him."

Abraxas grinned and took the child from Hermione and put him in Tom's arms, despite the look of sheer terror that was plastered on his face. "No, I…"

Hermione ran her hands along his arms and grinned. "You are doing fine." Lucius gurgled from his nest of blankets and Tom relaxed slightly when the child didn't wail.

Enough was enough though. "Take. Him. Back."

Hermione did so without any fuss, speaking baby-nonsense to the little boy, who seemed entranced.

Abraxas took a sip of his tea. "Mother had to tell me the same thing before he was born. Then when Helga handed him to me at first…well, if she hadn't been dying I would have panicked about just holding the little guy."

Albus poured himself and Tom a cup of tea as well. "Were the curse-breakers able to remove the curse?"

Abraxas shook his head as Lucius' fingers wrapped around his proffered finger. "Not yet. It's a nasty piece of work. We're bringing in a bloke from Egypt. The curse had traps woven into it. If you tried to dismantle it, it would kill her instantly. So I brought in outside help. I can't let her continue this way. We can't keep erasing her memory every time she feels guilty about something she's done! It's already awkward enough that she doesn't know why she's cursed."

"You are doing your best Abraxas." Hermione handed his son back. She turned to Albus and Tom. "So the Wizengamot?"

Tom winced. "Not as many direct supporters as one would have supposed, many, many more useless hypocrites than one would have thought."

"Olivander will be shutting down that brothel tonight." Tom shuddered a little and Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry."

He pulled away slightly. "No, it was a good idea to search their minds, and Merlin knows I'm the only one who could have done it this quickly."

Abraxas grinned down at his son and pretended to talk to the child. "Yes, your Godfather is a bit of a prat, but he's not an arrogant prat."

Tom smirked. "We found sympathizers and a few that were bribed, but over-all he doesn't have any real agents on the Wizengamot itself. There were people who joined after they were in position. So there is some comfort in that."

Hermione leaned forward. "How are we going to exploit it? Can we use the spies to lure him into a trap?"

Tom laughed and smirked at Albus, who simply shook his head. He turned to Hermione. "They were going to arrest them! Just create a power vacuum so Gellert could prepare next time he needs spies!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Abraxas smirked. "It's good there was Slytherin in the room then. And how is our dear Gellert?"

Hermione motioned for the blond to hand the baby back and didn't speak until he complied. "He's suspicious that your grandmother has stopped targeting the food. One of the generals brought up the possibility that her own people forced her to when they were in danger of starving."

Tom smirked. "He had help with that idea of course, but General Vladamir doesn't know that."

Hermione shrugged. "I didn't speak up on the issue, but while he's uneasy, he's not digging into it too much as of yet. Any ideas on how we can dispel his uneasiness on the subject would be greatly appreciated. We don't want him suspicious enough to look into the matter personally."

"And Ivan? Have you made an ally of his Russian general?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not particularly. He is wary of me. I am pretending to be a bright child, so I have good reason to be wary of him. So for now we simply watch. He would mistrust a gesture of friendship at this point. I think he envies Gellert…well everything."

Abraxas took his son back and burped him gently. "That matches with what Grandmother has said about him as well. You need to be wary of him."

Hermione nodded as Tom wrapped a long arm around her. "Has anyone considered that the house elves might be the perfect means to find out if Grindelwald's second spy is still here at Hogwarts?"

Hermione beamed at him as the other two looked slightly dumfounded. "Well, I was just thinking as they led Dippet away. The Hogwarts elves are bound to the castle and not a wizarding family. That means that they aren't under any geas to support the Professors if they are harming the students. We established that when they kept Professor Lestrange away from the other students. So why not ask them if they are willing to help us look for the spy? As the Deputy Headmaster, I think they would listen."

Albus shut his mouth (which had been hanging slightly open) and cleared his throat. "Sometimes one forgets how effective an outside opinion can be. No one who grew up in the wizarding world would have questions the exact parameters of the elf bond…especially given the odd circumstances of their lineage here at Hogwarts." He turned to Tom and Hermione. "I'll arrange a meeting."

Their plotting was interrupted by a wail form little Lucius. Abraxas sniffed the air with a resigned groan. "Do you think we can get one who knows how to change diapers?" Tom grinned when heard the 'thwack' noise from Hermione's hand hitting the blond.

 **HJGHJG**

The kitchens were busy as always, but Hermione knew that the fact that the elves didn't slow their pace did not in any way mean that they hadn't noticed visitors.

A short stooped elf clad in a spotless pillowcase motioned the group of humans to a table. With a snap of his bony fingers a steaming pot of tea and sandwiches floated in.

Albus seemed a bit nervous. "Children, this is Wyn, the eldest elf in the castle and head of their..."

"Bloodline is close enough sir." His voice was raspy and much lower than the normal squeak of house elves. His eyes were bright despite his evident age. "I understand you has a request that only I can grant. Requests from wizards are rare sir."

He poured tea into each of the cups precisely, adding just the right amounts of sugar or milk to each.

Hermione accepted her tea with a nervous bob of her head.

The elf looked at her for the longest time and bowed his ancient head slightly. "You is wishing the elves to take sides among the wizards. The elves that work for families do of course, but the Hogwarts lines have been neutral a thousand years sirs and miss. Wyn is not seeing that we should be taking part in a war. No. It is not the place of elves."

Hermione put down her cup and nodded. "That is your decision Wyn, and we will honor it. But I thought your duty was to the castle and the students?"

The old elf nodded. "'Tis."

"There is a spy for Grindelwald within the walls. Information about who that spy is could be used to help protect the castle and the students. Grindelwald will kill any who oppose him if he attacks. It would ruin the school's reputation and sully the names of the founders if we allowed it. Please consider the request."

"The honor of the school is at stake?"

"Grindelwald will not allow Hogwarts to remain as it is. He cannot allow a school to remain outside his control if he is to remain in power."

"This is not the first dark lord. Still Wyn hears from elves that have no masters. They comes to Hogwarts from across the sea. Never had Hogwarts seen so many refugees."

Hermione took his aged fingers in her own grasp, marveling at how small and delicate they felt. "Please think about it Wyn."

With that, she stood up, snapped her fingers, and the tea things floated to the sink.

Old Wyn broke into a grin. "Miss is a clever little witch. Wyn will consider her words."

 **GGGGGG**

Life was going smoothly for Gellert Grindelwald. His forces were building for British invasion, his court was still reeling for his announcement (both the fact that he had an heir and the Hollows) so they were too busy in-fighting to plot against him for the moment. And Tom and Hermione were about to leave Hogwarts for the summer, which meant he would have greater access to his two young protégées.

In truth, the only thing that was bothering him was that it was all going a little too smoothly.

"No attacks from Ivanova on the grain store? None at all?"

His faithful aide Sergei, who had lost his boyhood home to the Russian revolution, shook his dark head. "None my lord. Her efforts recently have been all in rescuing those headed for the prison and in general chaos for the army's supply lines. She somehow smuggled a box of transfigured rats inside the army depot and the beasts were making homes out of the men's winter cloaks sir."

Gellert frowned. "Nuisance attacks."

Sergei nodded. "If we hadn't found them they might have destroyed the whole warehouse which would have delayed the winter gear and upset moral…but yes. Low impact, low risk attacks. We assume she is regrouping sir."

The blond paced, running scenarios through his head. "We need a spy."

Sergei grimaced. "If you recall sir, we tried that some time ago. We lost seven able wizards to the task. She doses them all with truth serum weekly. Even if we could find them, a spy wouldn't last a month."

"Even children?"

"Sir?" Sergei was like a faithful hound, and not quite as clever as one in Gellert's opinion. Still the man had saved his life countless times, and proved his loyalty beyond question.

"What if they came across a group of children, orphaned, and under attack by some of our more brutal field agents. Would she dose them?"

Sergei frowned. "I have no idea sir. She's canny and careful. She might."

Gellert gave his aide his best shark grin. "She might not though. Arrange it, won't you." After all, there was little to lose in this gambit. "Give the child a two way mirror. Let them sneak around and report what they find. If you can't find the right sort of child to volunteer for a good sum of gold, find a bright scamp in the slums and kidnap them. Threaten someone they love, and make certain the brat is old enough to hold themselves together, nine or ten, but small for their age. A well-grown child of that age would arouse suspicion."

Sergei looked a bit red, but he simply bowed. "Yes my lord. Is that all?"

Gellert gazed out the window. "Hermione and Tom will be here a bit over the summer. I want to arrange some informal meetings with the younglings of our best generals and supporters. Let them dip a toe into the intrigue of the court with players a bit closer to their own level. It will be good training for both of them. And I will expect you to work in time to train Tom as her body guard as well. I want to know what he knows, and I want him not to flinch from anything that needs to be done. Hermione must be protected at all costs." Geller grinned in anticipation. He would begin his seduction of the girl while her protector was learning spells. It was delicious. His eyes sparkled at his own joke, though poor Sergei was too dim to get his true meaning. "She is the future of our empire."

"It will be as you say my lord."

 **SISISISI**

Sergei bowed his way out of Gellert's chambers as he started sweating in fear. The man was mad.

He kept his footsteps calm and his face impassive as he went about hi work. Grindelwald was planning to make his own bastard child his queen. Nothing could be plainer. That was why he had announced her position as heir and not announced her bloodline. He wanted the question muddied enough so that history would forget…

Sergei was by no means a good man. He liked power, and he did what was necessary to get it and to keep it,( which was often harder).

Sergei also had a wife at home that he had grown to care for deeply, despite the fact that he'd married her to cement political alliances. More than that, they both cared for their children.

It was unnatural to do anything else! Even the beasts and Muggles didn't breed so closely.

Only a madman would.

Unfortunately, the madman was the uncontested dictator in an empire he had created.

Fortunately…the child he intended to abuse was his heir, which gave the country an option to move along without upsetting the natural order of the government.

Options, which Sergei would quietly explore.

In the meantime, he would find a brat in the slums to spy on the rebels…


	57. Chapter 57

_**AN: Um…you know how I was shooting for February 14**_ _ **th**_ _ **for an end date? Sorry, not happening. In fact, I just keep writing more…can't seem to stop. I really didn't mean to add another story arc to the story, there is plenty left to tie up…but this showed up and it was so real that I couldn't resist.**_

 _ **I really, really need to stop trying to figure out how long this story will be.**_

 _ **Happy Sunday (unless I don't post until Monday, because it is getting late).**_

Sophie was small, with dark eyes and light fingers. If she'd ever had a last name, she'd forgotten it. If anyone had bothered to look beyond years of inadequate baths in local rivers and the ragged layers of clothing that only managed to cover everything because they holes didn't overlap, they'd find a comely enough twelve year old girl.

Well, they'd find a girl. She was small and slight to begin with, with thin bones and whipcord muscles; years of deprivation had left her with little extra for growth. She was short and would always be short. She admitted to nine years, could pass for eight.

One day, someone was going to start counting fingers on her, but the residents of her community had more to worry about than a single ragamuffin. The state taxed their work the same way it taxed their fields. Once the fields were gone, the people were herded into tenements in all-magic areas of the city…towering hovels that reached crookedly for the sky, inhabited by witches and wizards whose magic was hobbled by ministry-regulated spells.

Sophie herself was unencumbered by parents. She could vaguely remember her mother and a little brother, but then there was a fire, and she had been the only one to come out. She had wild surges of accidental magic that often got her into all kinds of trouble. When she was very small, she didn't realize that summoning cheese or fruit was the same as stealing it. The poor people around her saw it differently and she's had to get very fast indeed to outrun angry people who'd lost their own dinner to a waif.

She'd learned to only pull that trick on the edges of the magical areas; to only swipe a few coins from the wealthy.

She'd found hard, dirty work that would occasionally supplement what she could steal.

There were worse things that could happen to a little girl on the streets; almost all of the adult women in her corner of the world did a bit of whoring to the solders in Grindelwald's army. It was better to get the coins and allow them their way than to endure a rape and possibly a beating or death for refusing. She and the other children all had a wary, cat-like way of disappearing into the shadows when the soldiers swaggered into the poor district. Not all of them were averse to taking a dirty urchin. But most of them _were_ averse to the stench around Sophie, and not at all inclined to run after her, so she'd been spared that particular form of attack.

She shivered in her tattered clothing. May had been cold and wet. She was braving a small gathering at the edge of the ghetto, they had a fire going, a cauldron of some home-brewed ale, and someone had brought a bunch of cheap nuts. She'd managed to snag three so far as the witches and wizards drank the potent brew bubbling in a cauldron to the side. She stared at the hot mulled ale with longing. She was just so cold. Too cold to sleep. So she kept edging closer to the fire.

She'd been around these people often enough. They weren't the cream of high society, but they didn't fancy children and they wouldn't kick her for the joy of hearing her yelp…though if they caught her hand in their purse, it was likely she wouldn't survive the night. That was fine. She doubted they had anything more in their purses than she did.

There were several other children around the edges of the group; some actually finding the energy to play. She was finally warming up enough to feel the long, long day she'd had.

She never even heard the spell that knocked her out.

 **SSSSSS**

Sergei lifted the girl into his arms and glared at the scowling men and women around the fire as he examined her teeth.

They scowled, but they didn't move. He was glad he wasn't alone. Two bruisers with wicked-looking wands stood behind him.

He examined the crowd shortly. "Does this one have parents?" They were building up to something unfortunate, wands or not. He probably should have plucked a child off of the street under a charm.

A low negative mutter greeted him, until one grizzled old man spoke up. "No. But she's a good child."

The man nodded. "Plenty of magic?"

The old man nodded thoughtfully, taking in Sergei's neat finery. "She does."

"Since you seem concerned, I should mention our lord needs a child for a specific job. She won't be harmed, not while she is in my employ."

The crowd lost the vicious edge. They were too tired, too poor and weak to maintain a pitched battle really, but they might have armed themselves with sticks if he'd been the sort that snatched a child away for something less wholesome. He controlled his face. He had plenty of practice. There were things that men did in war that they should not do on the streets of their home. From the looks of things, he might need to remind the barracks of that once again.

The people did not go back to drinking their cheap ale and talking quietly. They watched him.

He nodded and gathered the girl to him, ignoring her smell and the dirt and lice.

He'd see that she was cleaner and fed for a few days before he sent her out to spy. She'd be loyal. Sergei would be her whole world before the week was out.

 **ADADAD**

Albus liked Edvard Olivander. He always had. That statement, though true, did not mean that he'd entrusted the man with any more information that he absolutely had to have to do the job that he needed to do as head of the Auror office.

It wasn't personal, it was just best that people weren't distracted with more information than they strictly needed.

Edvard had other ideas, and he'd 'invited' Albus into his office with the express intention of getting more answers than Albus wished to give him.

Albus knew this, because he could feel the first effects of a powerful truth serum.

"I'm rather curious Edvard."

The other man watched him carefully, looking for the first signs that the potion was taking effect.

"You are always curious Albus. It's 90% of your personality. Is there something in particular I can help you with?"

"I'd like to know how you managed to dose me."

The pale man's eyebrows rose. "Well spotted." A quick spell wrapped Albus in ropes and he removed Albus' wand. "I don't want to harm you of course, but though I trust you, I can't continue to work with the crumbs of information you are giving me Albus. I need the real information so that I can adjust. I would not do this to you if it weren't a matter of national; security."

Albus found the word rolling out of his mouth with no filter. "I'll believe that if you take the same potion later."

Edvard nodded. "We shall see. First question: Where does your loyalty lie?"

"With the light, but not necessarily with the Ministry."

Edvard shrugged. "I thought as much. Not that I blame you for that." He took a deep breath. "What do you know about Hermione Granger's gift?"

"It is powerful, but not infallible, possibly because her visions can be changed, unlike traditional divination. I suspected that she was an adult who had used magic to look like a child, but nothing I did altered her form. She isn't a normal child though. She is firmly on the side of light, but she doesn't flinch."

"And Tom?"

"Tom Riddle is a gifted child."

Edvard moved around to face him, hands on Albus' face. "What is your relationship to Gellert Grindelwald?"

Albus flinched, even with the potion. He tried to prevaricate. "He is everything I despise."

Edvard nodded. "But he wasn't always?"

"No."

"What was he to you?"

Albus took a deep breath, unable to fight the potion. He felt tears begin to form at the corner of his eye.

"Beloved. Lover. Friend. Partner. When we were eighteen we met and we planned to find the Deathly Hallows and become the masters of death. I think I'm the only person he has ever truly offered to share power with."

Edvard soothed Albus with firm touches along his arms. "And did he love you as well?"

"I believe he did."

"What happened?"

"There was a fight. A duel between the two of us and my brother. My sister was caught in the crossfire. She died. Gellert left and I never saw him again. We did not know who used the spell that killed her."

Edvard bowed his head. The he met Albus' eyes. "Who do you think it was?"

Albus closed his eyes. "I don't know for certain, but I don't think it was Abe. It might have been my spell, I wasn't using anything dark, but a blasting curse could have hit her wrong, and flung several of those around. But Gellert was using dark curses, trying to hit my brother because he was so angry."

Edvard stroked Albus' hair and wandlessly released the ropes.

"Very well my friend. I am sorry for doing this to you. So in recompense…" The man took a small vial out of the breast pocket of his coat and sipped it.

Albus was recovering. He summoned a glass and took a long drink of water as the potion worked. "How did you slip it to me?"

"I had my house elf replace your normal sweets with ones she'd coated in the potion."

"Clever. I'll dispose of them."

"You might keep them."

Albus smiled. "Clever man."

Edvard shrugged. "Generally. I'm not certain that dosing you was the cleverest thing I've ever done, but I felt like I had no choice. You were never going to confide in me."

"No. I would not have willingly told you. My preference for wizards often makes them nervous, but beyond that, I did not wish to discuss one of the more painful moments in my life. Loving someone so…depraved makes me feel unclean. It's not something I wish to share." Drat. Albus realized the potion was still working on his end as well.

Edvard looked at him with unseeing eyes. "I understand. My experiences are different from what is considered decent and normal, so my reactions are different. Seeing you bound in ropes excites me." The man blushed, pale, pale pink as Albus digested the fact that his friend was interested in him in a way he did not expect and in a way that might bother many.

Albus reached out a hand to Edvard, running a thumb over the other man's soft, colorless lips. "Did you desire me before?"

Edvard gulped. "Yes."

Albus frowned. "Why?"

"I do not generally allow myself to desire anyone, but you…for one who reads the signs, you are obviously gay, but you don't flirt. You are like a maiden protecting her virtue, like a flower; beautiful and intoxicating, but delicate. You need to be protected; I can feel it in you. It's my nature to nurture and protect."

Albus felt his lips twitch. "This isn't the best way to begin this sort of thing."

Edvard gave that pale pink blush once again. "I didn't do this because I wanted you. I gave a man I wanted truth potion to protect my country. I had to know what went on between you and Grindelwald. I had to know if you would end him if you had the opportunity, or if you would let an old love stay your hand."

Albus frowned. "I cannot promise that I would kill him. I can promise to capture him."

Edvard frowned. "I want him dead."

Albus recoiled at the hate in his tone. "Who do you know that he hurt?"

"You."

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione smiled as she helped Tom send dozens of small animals into the Chamber of Secrets. Little Mari had a big appetite, and she liked chicken and rabbit best.

Tom sighed as the last of the animals were levitated down along with enough food to keep them from starving before the snake caught and ate them.

"That should keep her happy until we get back." He wasn't looking forward to leaving for the summer; he never did.

Hermione nodded. "You know, we should probably mention to Albus that there is a giant snake in the pipes…all other considerations aside, we'll probably need his help to get the blasted thing out of here."

"Don't talk about her like that Hermione, she'll hear you!" He grinned and added on a more sincear note, "Even though she only speaks snake, she understands English fairly well."

Hermione shook her head and kissed the tall young man beside her.

"How did you even find that many chickens?"

"Hagrid. Albus gave him the start up capitol and he's been supplying half of Hogsmead with rabbit and chicken for the last three months. He can get anything to breed apparently, as odd as that sounds."

Hermione pulled a face, remembering a baby dragon and a very large spider in a future that would never be.

Tom wrapped a long arm around her waist. "It will be fine. He'll come with us to the orphanage and Albus will break us out before we wipe our feet properly. Even Grindelwald can't complain that we're spending most of our break with the very alchemist he wants us to emulate."

A loud bawling sound startled them both and Tom managed to close the chamber before a wailing a girl in glasses burst into the room. She blinked owlishly at the pair and started to back up. Tom gave her a charming smile as she started to back out the door.

"No, we were just leaving. I had to speak with my friend here about something privately."

Hermione was just glad they'd gotten the chicken feathers off the floor.

The girl nodded meekly.

Hermione smiled. "Why are you crying?"

The girl sniffed loudly and let loose a wail that jarred Hermione's existence. She recognized that!

"Olive Hornby was teasing me about my…my glasses!"

Tom moved quickly and conjured a clean white handkerchief. "I wouldn't let it worry you. Glasses only make a beautiful girl look sensible and even smarter, which appeals to any man of intelligence." She stopped wailing and looked at him like the sun rose and sank on that 10,000 watt smile.

Hermione patted the girl gently. "Clean up and don't let the opinions of others get you down Myrtle."

The girl frowned. "How did you know…?"

Hermione caught Tom's eye. "Oh, just a lucky guess…."


	58. Chapter 58

_**AN: WARNING. This chapter is violent, like so many of them are. I can't believe anyone with triggers made it this far, but I've been told to remind everyone that this thing is M for a reason (and for once, the reason isn't smut.)**_

 _ **On another note, I'm still looking for a beta that is willing to help me edit this monster once it is complete. I need someone who is good with grammar, spelling, and loves the story. Also, someone who doesn't mind working on a deadline and who has the time to do it would be grand. (Need I mention that this person must also be willing to put up with me and my ideas about commas? Because I've lost more than one copy editor on the subject of voice). Not asking for much am I? Anyway, send me a PM if you are this particular type of unicorn. I am willing to barter my skills as a plot bunny farmer or read over the unicorn's fiction in search of plot holes (though you really need someone else to check the spelling…my brain doesn't care about it, no matter how much I try to explain that it's important).**_

 _Albus remembered the sound of Gellert's wand swishing before each cut. He had blood in his mouth from the wicked slap that had started the entire episode…Albus never denied Gellert anything, but he'd balked when the other boy assumed that he would allow him to impregnate his child-like sister with 'their' heir._

" _Don't you see Albus, she's perfect." Gellert's eyes had flashed madly. "I want a mixture of us, of you and me to be our heir. We only need her to do it once, perhaps twice. Your blood is already in her."_

" _Gellert, her mind…she's a child."_

" _As if that matters. Her mind was fine before the accident. She'll breed true. If she'd been born like that she would obviously be…"_

 _Albus had gnashed his teeth. "No Gellert. It's wrong. She can't give consent, she doesn't have the capacity, not to mention her magic is…"_

" _Powerful, yes I know." The other boy's voice caressed the word powerful in a way that had excited and disturbed him._

" _I was going to say dangerous."_

" _We will simply take her with us on our travels. When we return to England with the Hallows, I'll have an heir and no one will think anything about my reclusive wife. You can rule by my side…"_

" _No."_

 _Gellert's eyes snapped to Albus' face. "What?"_

" _You aren't using her like that Gellert. What is wrong with you? Why don't you know that there are some things you simply don't do?!"_

 _Gellert hadn't wasted any time. He's stepped forward and viciously slapped Albus. Albus had never been slapped in his life and he found that his limbs froze for a moment after the sudden violence._

 _Gellert had depended on that. He immobilized his paramour and smiled down at him in a way that made Albus shiver, and not in a good way._

 _Albus had required healing potions and spells for three days after. His arm was badly dislocated, as was his wrist. The cuts and welts were the least of the external damage, but Gellert refused to heal those. He'd smiled possessively in the days after as he ran his fingers over the welts he knew were below Albus' clothing._

 _Still, Albus had never relented on the matter of his sister, even going so far as to volunteer Aberforth to care for Ariana in their absence…if he could just get Gellert away from his siblings, everything would go back and the mad plans would fall away._

Albus awoke in a cold sweat form the dream. He'd dealt with them for years. Most of the time he saw Ariana die. Something had woken him early. He sighed, knowing he would never get back to sleep.

He ran water in the sink and washed the sweat off his skin gently. He turned around and looked at the criss-crossed scars that had faded along his back and disappeared down his pants. Gellert had wanted to mark him, to make certain that no one else would ever touch him again.

Albus snorted. He'd very nearly accomplished it. Albus hadn't bothered with a lover in years. There were any number of purebloods with scars of their own; many of the young men were raised with the attitude of 'spare the rod and spoil the child'…but it was always a question that hung heavy between lovers, and it was worse when neither wanted to discuss their scars.

His eyes flicked to the shower. He had hours before he had to be awake.

He shook his head.

Edvard and he were not…intimate, but the other man watched him carefully, and he might be able to see the results of the healing spells, understand the reason for the creams. They were supposed to meet tonight for the first time since the truth serum incident.

It should be…enlightening. Or awkward as hell. It could very well be awkward as hell.

He sighed. He had an entire day to get through before they could meet, children to see away from the safety of Hogwarts. He'd be riding the train home, just in case. He and Abe were taking turns at the cottage this summer. It would be good for him to interact with his brother.. Things between them were always…volatile. There were times when he was almost friendly, but then he'd drink a bit too much and be back to his angry, unrelenting self. A few weeks away from the pub would be good for him.

It would be good fodder for Gellert as well. He'd hear about Albus escorting the children home. He would know Albus was well and truly invested in Hermione and Tom's future. They had to strike a delicate balance; they controlled the information. They simply had to let enough of the right things filter through.

His eyes flicked to the shower once again. He had hours before he had to see Edvard. He knew from experience he could be healed before he saw the other man, and a quick shower before their date would rid his body of any residue from the healing creams…

His eyes closed as he thought about those last days with Gellert, at how low he'd sunk. The man had been an addiction. Even when he hurt Albus, the sex was the best he'd ever had. Even now, his treacherous body hardened at the thought of his former lover.

After the beating, after the near-torture, he'd been so gentle with Albus' bloody body, healing it. It felt so good when it healed, so good to know he was safe and warm, and beloved, despite the things his beloved had done to him. He didn't doubt that Gellert had cared for him in his own twisted way.

Albus sighed again and began removing his clothing. He set his wand as a timer. He couldn't do much damage to his skin in twenty minutes and he'd feel better…after. Cleaner.

He just wished that he could wash it all out of his mind.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom caught Hagrid's eye and gave him a firm nod. The large boy looked even less confident than usual as Albus arranged things with a slightly tipsy and suddenly flirtatious Ms. Cole.

How had Tom not noticed that the woman was rather pathetically trying to catch the dignified professor's attention? Surely it couldn't have been this obvious in other years? Ms. Cole had often pined a bit for one man or another as the years passed and she spent her life surrounded by children who were not her own. Tom was certain there was a sad story in her past that led the generally decent woman into her life as a borderline alcoholic and caregiver for a group of unruly children.

Another high-pitched giggle made Tom wince. Ms. Cole might have pined for gentlemen before, but she had never done so without a motivation of a good marriage that would take her away from her position.

Unless Tom's eye was completely out, she currently wasn't matrimony-minded in the least. The woman looked like she desperately needed a good shag.

"It's so good of you to take such an interest in out waifs Professor Dumbledore." She batted eyes that were still quite blue as Albus steadfastly focused on the necessary papers.

"It's quite all right Ms. Cole. The children are all particularly gifted. Tom and Hermione as you now, are some of the best students at our school, and you'll find Hagrid here has a keen interest in animals. He's the top of his year in…ah animal science."

The woman was too tipsy to question the Professor's terminology.

"And what do you teach sir?"

Tom filled in before Albus could forget and spout off his actual subject. The man was as skittish as a new born colt. "Professor Dumbledore teaches Physics. He's a genius." Albus glared a little at that last bit when it made Mrs. Cole flutter even more.

Albus' eyes went to Hermione for help, but she was whispering to Hagrid, who looked absolutely miserable with the dreary, cheerless orphanage.

Albus turned back to Mrs. Cole. "I think that's everything. I specifically asked for Hagrid to be placed here, with his friends. I knew that you would take good care of the children." The man was lying through his teeth. He knew that Ms. Cole was easily persuaded when it came to requests from Albus, and easily bribed with gifts of alcohol or food for the children. "Of course, I'll be stopping in periodically…"

Tom rolled his eyes as Mrs. Cole practically salivated.

What was wrong with the woman? She had always been a bit of a lush, spread a bit too thin…she'd never been like a cat in heat around men, though Tom didn't doubt she'd had the occasional, discreet 'gentleman caller'.

Tom caught Albus' eye.

The older wizard ran a few diagnostic spells and frowned. He turned suddenly charming. "Children, why don't you get Hagrid settled in. I'll stay on for a bit." He grinned and quickly pulled out a flask that Tom was sure hadn't been in his pocket the moment before.

 **ADADAD**

The very last thing Albus wanted before his first official date with Edvard was to have anyone else's arousal on his robes. But Since Ms. Cole (Call me Dotty) had sat on his lap, he was fairly certain that she was leaking through her skirt and on to him.

Half his brain was focused on flirting lightly with the woman and keeping her hands and lips away from certain bits of his body.

The rest of his mind was occupied with testing her for spells and potions.

It was an incredible potion. Someone on Gellert's team was quite handy with their cauldron.

But this…they had engineered a high level of specific lust in this woman especially for him. Difficult to do without a 'bit of him' to tie the spell to. For what purpose? That was the question…and should he brew an antidote or simply alter her memory and leave? Would it alert Gellert if he did?

Hermione was back in the room under a disillusionment charm. Albus stunned the woman on his lap and sighed.

"Lust potion, specifically designed for me. The three of you can't stay here. Gellert has obviously infiltrated the orphanage."

Hermione frowned and ran her own set of diagnostics. "It's not meant to last long. The question is, did Gellert expect you to figure out that it's a lust potion and move us or did he expect Ms. Cole to scare you away?"

Albus scoffed then looked thoughtful. "I suppose, if he were remembering the younger version of myself, I might have been callow enough to run when face with a woman who clearly wanted me. I didn't know how to explain myself you see…"

Hermione patted his hand. "It's alright. I understand. I think that moving us to the Flamels' home tonight is the better option in any case."

Albus sighed, hating the fact that Gellert could manage to destroy his love life in so many ways over the years. "They are still out of the country. I suspect they may be building a secondary home in America, just in case."

Hermione frowned and Albus shrugged. "They aren't fighters Hermione."

She had the look in her eyes that said she knew something he didn't, but she simply nodded at that statement.

"We'll be ready to go in ten minutes. If need be, we can stay in a tent until the Flamels return. I can just ward the area against…well, everything."

Albus smirked as he transfigured the gin glass on the table into a cauldron. "No need for haste. It will take me half an hour to brew an antidote for the poor woman. And no need for a tent either. I'll take all three of you to my home. Abe will understand."

 **ADADAD**

Abe did not, in fact, understand.

"It's bad enough I have to share my house with you…" The last word was said with utmost loathing. "Worse still to have your new boy toy and his band of friends camping here…"

Albus was about to object when his brother's eyes widened. An elegant wand was jabbed into his throat and he immediately stilled.

Hermione's voice was like acid. "You need to keep your foul suppositions to yourself you self-righteous little prick."

Abe tried to turn his head but Hermione's wand was still buried in his neck. "I'm not finished. You've spent years tormenting your brother about his role in the death of your sister. It's the only thing you've ever done well in your life. If he falls to Grindelwald, what becomes of the rest f the world? What if feeding his guilt all these years is what leads to his defeat?"

"Good riddance. To either of them."

Albus flinched and when he looked back, Abe was wrapped from head to toe in ropes.

Hermione slapped him across the face, not once but twice.

"You little b…"

She slapped him a third time as Tom jabbed his wand into the other man. Even young Hagrid looked murderous.

She pulled his face close. "Do something with your life. If you want to cross-breed goats and pour out firewhiskey for the rest of your days you'll get no argument from me, but you need to let go of this grudge. No one needs their family throwing goat-dung at them or spouting such foul lies. Albus doesn't abuse children. Your brother is an astonishingly decent man, even if he is a secretive bastard. I know you both got that from your mother."

Albus' mouth dropped. How in Merlin's name…?

Abe looked upset. "Don't speak about my mum."

"You aren't in any position to tell me what to do Aberforth." Albus felt his brother's eyes flick to him. Hermione saw it too.

"Why would a man you've tormented and maligned for years help you?"

Albus didn't say anything as Abe finally decided he was in real trouble. There was something very dangerous about Hermione…

"Tom, Hagrid, and I are going to leave." She turned to Albus. "Abraxas will be happy to have us, he was quite put out that we were staying with the Flamels. I suggest you and Abe here take some time and work out your family issues before he says the wrong thing at the wrong time and I hex him into dust."

 **ADADAD**

Hermione and the others used the floo to go to Malfoy Manor. Albus turned to his brother.

"Well, are you going to take the rope off or not?"

Albus took a deep breath. "She's right you know. You and I need to talk. Gellert is coming back, despite everything I can do to slow him down, and he's bringing an army this time."

"I don't care. I don't care if the two of you are ruling the world or killing each other. On second thought, I hope you kill each other."

"I told you, I don't know which spell killed her."

Abe's eyes narrowed. "You still don't understand. You were the only thing standing between us and the rest of the world. Our big brother. And you brought him into our lives, and let him kill her."

Albus flinched and Abe looked viciously victorious. "Not get the damn ropes off me and get out of my damn house."

Albus took a deep breath. "I was seventeen Abe. I know mother always ranted about the hellholes that were asylums and would never consider putting Ariana in one, but we should have."

"Still a selfish bastard."

"Less arrogant than I was as a newly minted adult. Ariana's power was dangerous. Leaving her in the basement without treatment got mother killed. She needed professional help that we couldn't give her."

"All she needed was your love. If you'd just stayed home with her like you were supposed to!"

"I needed to find employment and you know it. I couldn't charm cheese and knit like Mother did for extra gold to supplement our waning fortune."

"You could have thought of something else. You didn't want to. You put your grand romance first and it destroyed our family."

"I probably did." Albus sighed and removed the ropes around his bristling brother. "And that is my fault." Abe picked up his wand but Albus didn't lower his own. They both knew who the better duelist was and Albus was done taking a beating just because he felt the weight of guilt. The beatings didn't help him feel better and they just made Abe angrier. "At some point little brother, you and I must put these childish things away. I'm nearly seventy years old and I haven't had a meaningful relationship since I ended things with Gellert. I'm going to have to duel him, and soon. You don't have to like me, you don't even have to tolerate me, but I won't be your punching bag anymore."

Albus summoned all of his things from around the cottage. "I am done fighting with you. You'll get papers deeding my half of the house to you this week. Merlin knows I don't want it, and I don't care anymore if you destroy it in one of your drunken binges." Every single doily packed itself neatly in a small carrying case.

He turned to his dumfounded brother. "One thing you do need to do Abe, and soon, is pick a side in this war. If I die I won't be here to protect you, and sitting around grumbling on the sidelines like a constipated goat won't do you any good."

Albus popped back to Hogwarts, feeling freer than he had in many years.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom frowned as he helped Hagrid out of the fireplace. The large boy wouldn't be able to floo at all once he hit his full height. Even magic had limits.

He turned to Hermione. "Did Malfoy actually invite us for the summer?" Not that he wouldn't have given quite a bit to get away from Albus' family issues…he shuddered delicately. There was something especially horrible about people with blood ties that didn't accept you. He should know. His own father had tried to shoot him when he introduced himself and his mad uncle had nearly gutted him.

She shrugged as she siphoned the ash away. "He probably won't say no, and it's this or the tent… I don't actually have a tent, but I have a handkerchief and I know the charms. Actually, I've been considering engorging a doll house and adding in the plumbing, but modern wiring would be tricky…"

Abraxas was striding in the room and pulled her into a hug. Tom felt the familiar irritation (mild though it was) that Abraxas was forever manhandling his witch. "Don't be daft, the only reason I didn't ask is that Albus gave me that look he does sometimes and reminded me about Tom nearly dying last time you spent the summer here." He pulled back and seemed to check them all for wounds. "I'll have the house elves make your rooms ready."

 **AMAMAM**

He found room for Tom and Hagrid first, then led Hermione a few doors down. "What happened?"

She chortled. "What didn't? Grindelwald interfered at the orphanage, Dippet still won't let us stay at Hogwarts over the summers, and when Albus took us to his home, we had an altercation with his brother, wherein I might have trussed him like Christmas goose because he's a bastard."

Abraxas laughed and pulled her into his arms for a hug. "Vicious thing. Albus is lucky to have a friend like you. I hope he appreciates it. It's not every girl who will tie up a family member for a bloke."

Hermione smiled as she dumped her small case in the floor. It rattled loudly and she cursed under her breath and shot a little spell at it.

She turned back to him and hugged him again. "Thank you. Tom and I would have been fine on our own of course, but we aren't used to having Hagrid with us…"

Abraxas reveled in that short contact. "You are always welcome. Even if I were not here, if you and Tom need to come and stay or drop off one of your strays, or raid the rose garden for ingredients, you are always welcome. You know you are keyed to the wards."

"Still, I hate to impose…"

He frowned. "I want you to feel at home here. Keep the room the way you like, leave your things here. So you will always have somewhere to come back to."

His favorite witch had tears in her eyes, but she sniffed and held them in. "How is my godson? Has the curse breaker been able to help Helga?"


	59. Chapter 59

_**AN: It seems I am always begging your forgiveness! I managed to sprain my wrist getting out of bed (I am really, really NOT a morning person). I'm afraid tying is very slow at the moment. I had hoped to have this to you only a week late, but it looks like it will be a week and a half. I know there are PMs and messages waiting; I promise I will respond to each and every single one of them. The dr. says I have to take it easy for another week (Only I could sprain my wrist that badly without doing anything FUN in bed).**_

Hermione knew she was dreaming when she walked into the home where she and Ron had lived for most of their married lives.

She could see the marks in the couch where an elderly Crookshanks had slashed it in irritation (no magic could fix what her irritated kneezle had done either…). They'd eventually replaced the sofa, after years of children falling asleep on it, many colds nursed on it, and many family movie nights watching Disney movies (despite Ron's playful protests that the magic was all wrong.)

She smelled Ron's favorite soap before she saw him. She turned around, and he was there, blue eyes dancing.

"Ron!"

He wrapped his long arms around her and she was the proper size again…probably in her thirties, with the first laugh lines still years away. "Hermione."

"Why haven't you come before?"

She'd wondered, since she began wearing the stone, when she would see him. She'd seen Fred and George, Harry, she'd even seen Lavender Brown for Merlin's sake…but she'd never seen the man she married in her last life.

He kissed her forehead. "You didn't call for me."

She looked up, expecting a sulky jealous Ron, to see him smiling down at her with more wisdom in his eyes than she'd seen when his face so smooth.

"I would not distract you 'Mione. You are on the front lines of a new war. Even if I could have come, I would not until your spirit called for me."

"Oh." She felt very young and lost somehow…

Ron laughed and picked her up effortlessly, twirling her the way he had the day they bought the house in one of the better Wizarding neighborhoods.

He pulled her close to his chest in a warm hug that felt as natural as it had all those years before.

"I know that you are worried…about how much of your heart you are giving to Tom. Don't. Loving the way you do is what makes you powerful . Intelligence and magical power come and go through different lifetimes. Those aren't what make you special. They are tools to help you do the things you need to do."

She looked up at Ron, whose jealousy had been his Achilles heel until the day he'd died. "You don't mind?"

He grinned. "I long for the times when we are reunited, but our souls will meet again. We always do. I'll be born again as I'm needed. It's what it is to be a champion."

"I suppose I should know that…"

"But it's so unlike the form you remember that it's shocking, I know." He chuckled and shook his head. "We have more range in some lives than in others. Ron Weasley was a strong man, but he wasn't flexible. It was what was necessary in the last life, but it meant I was a bit of a prat sometimes."

She hit him playfully on the chest for belittling himself. He caught her hand and kissed it. "I know you are still worried, deep down, about betraying the loves from your last life with the love from this one." He put his chin on her head. "Don't. Something I realized once I got my memories from different lives: we have an infinite capacity to love. We just don't have time enough in every life to love everyone. So don't worry about labeling everything you feel. Just treat the people you care about like they are the most important things in the world to you, and you'll be golden…despite being in Slytherin."

He pulled away so he could look her in the eye and shake his head in mock disappointment. "How could you Hermione?" She grinned, knowing he was teasing. "You should have confunded the hat and made him put Tom the wanker in Gryffindor."

"If Godric is a Champion he's going to have your hide for that suggestion."

Ron's eyes sparkled as the dream began to fade at the edges. "I don't think so." He pulled her close one last time and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. "Make certain we don't see you for a long while love. I want you to be a grandmother many times over in this life before you cross over."

She woke up on Slytherin green Egyptian cotton sheets in Malfoy manor, with tears streaming down her face.

Tom woke and wrapped her in his arms.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffed delicately and tried to wipe the salty things away. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

He rolled his eyes. He looked even younger than usual as he kissed her cheeks softly. "Don't be daft. I'm not going to go to sleep and leave you crying. What did you dream about?"

She snuggled into his arms, safe and loved. She was lucky in this life, and she knew it. It hadn't exactly been easy to shield Tom, but after helping Harry, not much seemed overwhelming. She felt Tom's warm, pajama clad body next to her own and answered truthfully…it was, after all, her habit with Tom. "I dreamed I was saying goodbye to an old friend."

Tom didn't ask questions, He just held her tight.

 **SSSSSS**

Sergei looked down at the little girl sleeping in his office. He'd used a number of cleaning spells on her to get her to this point, and he'd had his secretary burn her clothing and acquire some gently used castoffs from a merchant family. She looked like some wealthy farmer's child in her worn but serviceable wool dress with hints of ribbon at the neck and wrist. She shouldn't look too prosperous, but people tended to leave street children in situations where they would never leave another child.

He decided it was time to wake the waif and get a decent meal into her. Nutrient potions had helped, but she needed to put on a little weight.

He shot the silent spell at the child and was somewhat taken aback at how quickly she was on her feet. He grinned. She was like a little alley cat.

She ran her jaw out when he smiled at her, so he pulled his wand out and summoned the meal. Warm soup with plenty of meat and barley, fresh crusty bread, and ripe strawberries were obviously more than she'd seen in a great while. He had children of his own. He knew the perils of overwhelming their stomachs with the wrong foods.

He walked over to the table in his office and indicated that she should sit as he spooned out a large bowl for her and another for himself from the dish.

A thousand questions flitted through intelligent eyes as he carefully took a sip of the soup and a bite of the bread. She was starving, but far too wary to eat until he proved that there were no potions in the food.

He took a slow bite of the warm soup and let his appreciation for the dish show on his face. The child looked at it with stark longing. He gave her a little smile. "Eat. This is…a business meeting of sorts. Along with my proposal, I bring food to the table."

She nodded slowly, but didn't return his smile. If he'd known what type of child he was picking up, he would have approached her differently…but then, she was wary of his uniform. He made a mental note to remind the barracks (with enough force to make his reminder stick) that one did not shit in one's own nest. Abuse of the indigenous population meant that they were too brutalized to work and feed the army. Best to leave such things to the newly conquered. It made them more amenable to high taxes.

The girl had watched him eat a quarter of his food. She must have decided that it was alright to eat, because she began quickly dipping the bread into the soup in the manner of one who had rarely had it fresh. He saw her bite back a groan at the taste.

He hid his smile behind a long drink of the good ale he'd ordered for himself. He allowed her to eat until her hands slowed. She'd need to be taught how to eat with utensils, but she was quick. Her bright eyes took in every detail, even as she cleaned her plate with a diligence that would do a house elf proud.

She ran a hand over her stomach; poor thing was distended from so much food after so long without. Something odd happened when he thought about that. He'd grown up with hungry times…he knew better than most what a soul could endure and survive.

He shook off his nostalgia as his eyes met the wary child in front of him. "I have a proposal…and if you accept, you will never have to go hungry again."

The words worked. He knew they would. After all, they were the same that Gellert had once used on him.

 **HHHHHH**

Helga removed her nipple from her infant son's mouth with an audible pop. His cherub cheeks and cupid bow of a mouth protested silently, but he was well and truly asleep. She smiled fondly down at him as she adjusted her dress and his blankets. The little glutton would eat all day and all night if she allowed it.

His personal elf, Mimsy, took him to his cradle, as Helena took a long drink of the cool water the elf left behind for her. Staying hydrated with the constant feeding was a challenge, and her grandmother had written several long letters about the importance of water for young mothers. Honestly, Helga thought she was overdoing it, and Helena agreed in her subdued, practical way. There was no need to feel slushy at any point in one's life. Nursing or not, one must always remember that one was a lady, and thus held to a higher standard than the plebian masses.

Abraxas had offered to get a wet nurse for the child, but Helga wouldn't hear of it. As kind as Abraxas had been since the birth of their child, she knew she couldn't remain in the sham of a marriage. She would have left for the Paris townhome if she'd dared to be that close to Grindelwald…perhaps London would be a better option…or even New York.

New York was dirty, industrial town, but then, so was London. And at least in New York there would be the joy of anonymity. She could take Abraxas' generous offer and remake herself. Or she could be herself and just travel with a properly inattentive companion.

Her eyes flitted to the cradle in the other side of the nursery.

If she remained in the marriage, there would be comfort, and she would be close to her son. Lucius had to remain at the manor. That was never a question. He was the heir and as such, he could be in terrible danger. The ancient wards around the manor were the surest protection for her little cherub, so within those wards he would remain. She was not selfish enough to take him away.

But oh! The idea of leaving him burned her heart. Perhaps London was best after all. She could come to the manor as often as she wished and be with him for weeks at a time. If she were quiet in her affairs she could have lovers on the side. Abraxas certainly was cutting a swath through the matrons in the elite circles. No one would gossip too wildly if she took a male lover or two now that she'd done her duty to her marriage…the only issue was that she didn't want a male lover.

She sighed as she walked to the library. The curse that had nearly killed her was lifted. She'd need to tell Abraxas something soon.

He rose when she walked into the room. How different from their early moments of matrimony. She couldn't remember exactly why they had quarreled in those early days. He was the most considerate of men really. She hoped they could be good friends as the years went by.

He had offered, more than once, to let her go her own way and remain his wife…but she'd seen what that arrangement did to her parents and had dismissed it out of hand.

Her father was a henpecked drunk that spent his time with women of 'questionable moral standards' and her mother was a bitter shrew who only took lovers to spite her husband.

But with Abraxas…it could be different. It wasn't as if she had to sleep in his bed every night to maintain any illusions…just appear on his arm. While his beater's physic did very little for her personally, she enjoyed the jealousy from the other witches while he twirled her flawlessly through the dances.

Once Lucius was grown, they could go their separate ways. Many couples did these days.

She smiled to herself and hurried to tell Abraxas that she'd finally decided on the correct course of action.

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert was bouncing in his chair. He was in his study; there was no one to see. He might be a despot and a megalomaniac, but he saw no reason to let that suck the joy from life. In fact, enjoying life however he decided was the entire point of being a despot in his opinion. And he was very much looking forward to the day.

Hermione was coming this afternoon. She had managed to arrange a few hours away from the Flamels (They'd finally left Malfoy Manor after staying for far too much of their vacation under the watchful eyes of Helena Malfoy). Hermione had written that their alchemy crazy hosts were out for the day on an expedition to gather potions ingredients. Dumbledore was also conveniently absent, being engaged with the Ministry. Gellert would have preferred more time, but he could do many things with a few hours. He'd start with driving a wedge between Hermione and her young paramour.

With that in mind, he called Sergei. "Tom and Hermione are coming."

The other man nodded. He knew this of course, Sergei knew almost all that went on in his fortress.

"I want you to begin training Tom this afternoon. Hermione and I will watch. Start by showing the young pup that he has much to learn, no matter how gifted he might be."

His second in command nodded, but kept his opinion to himself, which was odd.

Not so odd that Gellert paid him any mind. He turned his thoughts toward his plans for later in the summer. It all depended on Albus of course…if Albus could really be turned, Gellert would have everything…literally everything he'd ever wanted.

 **TMRTMR**

"Do you have everything?"

He nodded as Hermione checked her own protection spells. Anti-rape jinxes on both of them, the shield cloaks that Tom had made, and portkeys on their eyes that responded to a series of blinks that they could do even if they were under the imperio or a body bind. Hermione had designed those, a tiny dome of clear glass that was charmed to be unbreakable. She'd muttered about contact lenses when she'd made the first one. It was odd to put something like that in his eye, but he'd gotten used to it rather quickly.

Tom looked into her eyes and prayed, for the first time in his life, that there really was something out there to listen; prayed that he wasn't about to lie to her. "I'm ready."

She nodded and they reached for the sock portkey that Gellert had given them. The odd feeling of being hooked behind his navel was beginning to feel somewhat normal.

Sergei was waiting for them, with a troubled look in his eye. He motioned them forward, speaking quietly. "Gellert wants Tom to be humiliated by me for some reason."

Hermione stiffened. "Humiliated how?" Her voice crackled like ice and Sergei cringed.

"I believe our lord wants you to see him…as lacking. As just a boy, my lady."

Hermione had the strangest look on her face. It was mocking, but Tom could tell her main irritation was turned inward, though he couldn't say why.

Sergei leaned forward, casting subtle privacy spells that Tom had never seen to distract the guards momentarily. "You must lose, but convincingly my boy. Put up a good fight, and take the beating when it comes." He turned his eyes to Hermione who was glaring at the man like she would rip him into tiny bits with the force of her will. "He must my lady. I swear on my life, on my eldest child's life…no permanent harm will come to him by my hand. If he takes the beating like a man he will both thwart Gellert and impress him."

The spell broke and Sergei faked a short chuckle. "My lady…you are too kind!" He spoke as if he were ending a pleasant exchange and the guards around them were relaxed, totally unaware of the tension between the three of them.

Tom slipped into her mind. _I can do this._ Once again, their habit of slipping into one another's heads proved useful.

 _We are going to leave._ The inside of her head was as tart as green apples. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, ever so softly.

 _Would you deny me the chance to be a hero my Hermione?_

Her eyes widened and he smirked down at her beautiful face.

He left her with one final thought. _Don't worry love. I'll make him work for it, but I won't reveal what I can_ _ **really**_ _do._


	60. Chapter 60

_**AN: I'm going to start trying to update on Saturdays from now on. I have some original writing that needs to get done, and I need to clear Sunday off for it (because if I have to choose I will work on this story first…which probably means I need to 'sort out my priorities').**_

 _ **This is a bit shorter than normal. Sorry about that. Also, still need to answer PMs. I have read them all…I will start answering them as soon as I post this.**_

 _ **Thank you to everyone who has volunteered to BETA. Thank you thank you thank you. Your bravery when facing my spelling is admirable…**_

 _ **I will try to update again on 3/18.**_

Gellert stood in the sparring area as Sergei brought the two children to him. He was hard put not to bounce on his feet slightly. Perhaps he really should stop indulging in the habit in private. It seemed to make things harder in real life.

"Tom my boy!"

The boy nodded politely as Gellert clapped him jovially on the arm. A few of the guards were cleaning up from finishing their own sparring practice. Their attention turned inevitably to them. All the better to put the boy in his place. Humiliation was never as fulsome as when there was an audience.

Tom didn't allow him to control the conversation. "Sergei tells me that you would like me to begin training so that I may better protect Hermione my lord."

Cheeky boy. Still, it didn't dent Gellert's good mood.

He gave Tom a fatherly look. "Sergei is my own personal guard. You couldn't ask for a better teacher in real dueling."

Tom nodded, seemingly unconcerned.

He'd give the boy this, he was certainly self-possessed.

"You know proper dueling form of course?" He cast a shield spell over himself and his heir, hand resting on the girl's back.

Gellert gave Hermione a sly look as she moved away from him and took the boy's cloak with hands that did not tremble. She had faith in her little protector. It was time to show the witch that the only protection she could count on was from him.

 **TMRTMRTMR**

Hermione took the cloak. He'd beseeched her with his eyes and she'd relented. There was no reason to tip their hands about how powerful his shield cloaks could be. Hopefully the Brits would be wearing them when the two armies met (if Garret Olivander could get enough of them made in the meantime).

Tom bowed politely and Sergei returned the gesture as they began to circle each other. Tom felt a predatory grin behind his cool facade. The truth of the matter was that he loved to duel. He loved the adrenalin rush, the feeling of magic coursing through his veins. He was careful not to let that grin creep onto his face: no reason to give the game away just yet.

Sergei tossed the first spells: a blasting jinx quickly followed by two stunners. Tom dodged the blasting jinx (the man telegraphed the move by starting the spell at the shoulder rather than simply throwing it from the wrist). Tom easily shielded against the stunners, and shot two of his own and a boomerang jinx. Sergei deflected the stunners but the boomerang jinx simply looked like poor aim to the uninitiated and when it came back for the bodyguard, he wasn't expecting it. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very powerful spell, which was why Tom had found it moldering in the library. Useful for distraction, but little else.

After scoring the first hit, the spells began to fly so quickly that Tom could barely keep up. Tom shot a number of low-level nuisance spells that were absurdly overpowered. It made shielding against them difficult. They managed to set the older wizard off balance, causing his last bludgeoning hex to wobble slightly as it came toward him. The edge of it caught Tom, but he tucked and rolled neatly and came up, wand ready with a powerful shield spell that managed to deflect a nasty impero toward the smirking guards.

Tom wiped the sweat from his face a let that half-mad grin slide to his lips. It seemed that Sergei was done playing. Good. The man was the one who said the duel needed to look convincing after all. Gellert had seen Tom fight, years ago, when he and Hermione had held off Lestrange, and Bassett and the whiskered fellow.

Tom followed with a swelling hex at Sergei's fingers and a tripping jinx that actually got under the man's shield. Damn. If he'd realized he was only shielding from the knees up before, he would have been aiming for the ankles the entire time.

The wizard was dueling in earnest now, snarling hexes and dark curses in his native Russian as Tom deflected and dodged as well as he could, managing to take a few mild burns and a deep bruise in the process. The guards were watching with real interest, nudging each other and muttering.

Tom narrowed his own shield so he could control the way the spells ricocheted and then cast a perfectly legal slicing hex he'd found in an advanced text for healers. It allowed one to slice of a cursed limb before re-growing it. He narrowly missed taking off Sergei's hand; the wizard jerked it away as the spell sliced through the air where his hand had been. The older wizard shouted and sent a powerful hex into Tom's shield where it went right back at the other wizard, along with two nasty stunners (aimed at either side of the wizard in anticipation of him dodging his own hex).

Sergei was forced to doge his own spell and caught the edge of one of Tom's stunners. They were both sweating profusely and Tom could tell the older man was having trouble breathing. It was time to end it.

Tom jumped over the next low jinx Sergei cast, something in Algerian that burned like the devil…it caught his ankle and he landed on his side, hard. The older wizard was on top of him almost instantly. "Yield?"

Sergei's voice was as cold as ice and Tom hoped that he hadn't lost the tentative alliance that they had formed with the older wizard, who seemed the best of the bad lot surrounding Gellert Grindelwald.

"I yield."

The other wizard heaved himself up and offered the younger man a hand up with a grin.

"Good job boy." His pleasure was genuinely apparent on his face.

Gellert broke the moment with a slow clap.

 **HGHGHG**

"Yes. Rather excellent. I especially liked the fact that none of the spells you used were dark, or even illegal in England."

Hermione did not like the look in his eyes when Gellert looked at Tom. It was speculative and held a bit more lust than she liked to see directed at him. Gellert liked pretty, powerful people. She kept her face blank as she longed to sneer. Some people just had a type.

Hermione knew she needed to take control of the situation. She examined the burn on Tom's ankle. "The Flamels will be back this evening. We need some burn salve and some bruise paste or they'll know that something is wrong."

Gellert nodded and one of the younger guards dashed off to gather the supplies from the room, bringing in several small pots of potions and pastes.

Sergei grinned and sat comfortably beside Tom like an overgrown wolfhound now that he wasn't dueling. For a man who had barely escaped maiming a child and narrowly escaped being maimed himself, he was in a decidedly good mood. Hermione didn't miss how his eyes flicked to the watching gaurds and his satisfied grin showed Hermione that the man had underestimated Tom. She didn't let it show on her face, but she and Tom both knew that he hadn't dueled at full power and certainly not at full potential. Sergei was good, yes, but Tom could have taken the duel several times. Then again, she suspected that the large Russian was holding back as well. If they'd been battling to the death, I would have been a far different duel.

Then again, she wasn't at all convinced that Sergei would have won a battle to the death against Tom. He certainly wouldn't if she'd been in the audience.

 **GGGGG**

Gellert was watching the admiring faces of the guards who had watched the duel. He might be a psychopath, but he understood the army better than most dictators. He could not punish either Sergei or Tom for that duel. It had been hard fought. The gossip would be that the Lord's bodyguard was training the young lady's. That Gellert was preparing her to rule by finding her the perfect bodyguard.

So he bit back his irritation that the boy hadn't been thoroughly trounced. Time enough for that. If nothing else, the summer was only beginning. There were options for the brilliant, but inconvenient boy.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom sighed in relief as they ported back to their room at the Three Broomsticks. He kissed Hermione's forehead and leaned his head against hers'.

"I am sorry I worried you."

She smirked. "You loved it and you know it."

He grinned back at her, and he knew it wasn't an expression that made him handsome. It was too wide, a bit mad. Hermione never minded. She just kissed his mouth softly.

"Did we manage to heal everything?"

He shrugged. "I have a bruise on my back if you want to get it. I didn't want to take my shirt off." He grimaced. He hadn't missed the look Gellert had given him. The man was almost annoyingly predictable with his flares of lust.

Hermione slipped the shirt down his body and he let the thought of the other man slip blissfully from his mind.

She took a bit of bruise past from her supply of medical potions and rubbed it into he sore spot on his back where he'd taken a hex rather than lose his chance to fire one. He'd turned wrong and it felt like he'd cracked a rib.

Within moments the paste did its work and Hermione had finished with a common healing spell on the whole area that eased his lingering fears about the bone. "

He turned, shirt still off. "Can you do that on my wrist as well? I think I might have cracked the orbital bone too."

She huffed slightly. "I'm surprised you could still hold your wand."

He nodded. "We need to come up with a spell that will do that even when we are dueling. Having a good grip can mean all the difference…"

He nodded. "Perhaps gloves? Charmed to cling to the magical signature in the wand rather than simply cling to wood…?"

She chuckled. "Because otherwise you would have a pair of gloves you might not be able to pry away from a chair or bench or something equally inconvenient."

He sighed as she finished the last of the healing spells. It was so good to feel whole.

He pulled her into his arms, heedless of his bare chest. She didn't resist when he kissed her soundly, but stiffened when he began drawing her to the empty bed in the middle of the room.

"Tom…"

"I'm not pushing, but I would like to hold you and kiss you…" He lowered his voice to a note he could not have reached a year before. "I want to touch you. We don't need to take it further than you are comfortable with."

She allowed him to take her to the bed, but her eyes were wary.

He pulled the blankets down (it was summer, but it was also Scotland, and the inside of the room was chilly against his bare skin.)

He sighed as she fitted into his side. She was no more than five foot four on a good day. Still, he didn't mind that she looked doll-like and delicate. It meant that other people underestimated her. Even the ones who believed they knew what she was capable of, like Dumbledore and Gellert.

He leaned down and kissed her lips, trapping her body under him, enjoying the feeling of her soft thighs and breasts pressed against him. He would like to feel her naked skin next to his own. He knew eventually they would get there. Anticipation was both delicious and maddening.

He kissed her like she was the most precious thing in his world (which was easy because it was true.) His body reacted, but she didn't look embarrassed as she felt him harden against her belly. He risked a few strokes, almost losing his control because even that much felt so good.

He took a deep breath and moved on to nipping her neck and kissing her face gently.

He dragged his hand down her side and brushed the side of her breast. She shuddered, but he didn't cup it. He simply rand his fingers down her sensitive stomach and moved to kiss her lips.

He reached up to the first button on her shirt. "I want this off."

Her breath hitched, and he looked into her eyes. _You can keep on the rest, but I want to feel more of your skin_. He spoke directly into her mind, and felt the resistance crumble. He could feel how much she wanted him, no matter how hard she tied to hide it behind her shields.

She nodded and he grinned as he helped her out of the shirt. "You are beautiful."

She laughed softly and ran her fingers up and town his torso, leaving little fingertip-sized rivers of hot desire wherever they roamed.

"You are the beautiful one." Tom sucked in his breath and curled around her. His Hermione. His.

He rolled so that she was straddling his clothed lower body; her pale skin and brassier-clad breasts were perched above him.

He did a half-sit-up and tasted the skin on her stomach. I t was smooth, and smelled like the soap from the Flamels…something with mint and rosemary. He grinned up at her. "You smell good enough to eat."

For some reason, she made a choked sound at that comment, and her eyes glazed with unmistakable lust. Tom let a cocky grin spread over his face.

Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her made him feel powerful, even more powerful than dueling. Even more powerful than magic.

Her bra was white and modest, but it curved beautifully around her breasts. His eyes nearly rolled up in his head as he licked around the edges of it.

He buried his nose in the valley between her breasts and sighed happily. He had a raging hard-on that was aching from the contact with her body, but just the memory of this would make his solo wank sessions all the better.

She wanted slow…he could go slow. He pulled his nose away from those tempting mounds before he decided to nibble one. They made his mouth water. They seemed made to nuzzle and lick.

He changed his mind and placed one last long, lovely lick along the upper curve of her left breast. She made a strangled sound. He grinned up at her and she shifted on his lap, brushing his erection in a way that made him gasp for breath.

He pulled her down for another hot kiss and stroked himself against her body just a bit more.

Then he spun her around, wrapping his arms around her.

He was breathing hard. He kissed the bare skin on her neck and shoulders as he held her to his chest and got himself under control. She squirmed against him, unconsciously trying to get closer, wiggling her sweet behind against him, clenching her thighs together uncomfortably. He could see that her nipples were pebbled against the satin of her bra.

He grinned to himself. Slowly, he kissed her hair and just held her curled protectively around her. His cock still poked against her bum…sweet torture for both of them, but holding her skin to skin was worth it.

Eventually Tom drifted off to sleep. Hermione tucked safely to his chest, exactly where she belonged.


	61. Chapter 61

_**AN: The good news? I have a beta! The bad news? We're going to edit the whole story at once, so it won't help the typos right now. For those who have been asking, I know there are some minor plot lines that I dropped. Several of them are going to come into play later. Others are going to disappear in the edit. They won't be major changes, but rather a smoothing of the current story and a little foreshadowing on the things that actually matter, as opposed to the things that I thought might matter. I'm going to keep the same number of chapter though, because I don't want to lose a single review.**_

 _ **I need to take a moment to thank all of you once again for reading and most especially for the well written reviews. While I'm editing, I'm going to go through and send at least one personal thank you note to everyone who wrote a review.**_

Abraxas was holding little Lucius when Hermione and Tom came through the floo.

Hermione snorted when she saw that he was holding the child instead of putting him in the bassinette waiting beside him.

"He'll sleep better in the bed."

"He's had a touch of colic…"

She gave him a knowing look as she levitated an overnight bag in from the floo. "And you just like to hold him."

Tom shook his head and stayed out of it, sending the bags off to their room. If Abraxas wanted playful banter, Hermione really was his only option within his circle of close friends. Albus was too prone to wisdom laden comments accompanied by that thrice-damned twinkle of his…Tom too likely to cut one to the bone with his accurate but sometimes difficult observations. The boy was absurdly strong, but he had an inherent intensity that put people off if they ever got too close.

Hermione was…

He cut that thought off. Hermione was fifteen, and Tom's other half. And Abraxas was married with a child.

She took the child from him, and he noticed how she held him as if she'd held babies her entire life. She leaned in to breathe in the sublime baby scent of the child.

Abraxas noticed that Tom was watching as well, and he wondered what the boy saw when he saw his other half holding a baby that was so obviously a Malfoy in her arms.

Abraxas cleared his throat; the jealousy seemed to be clogging it. "I see you made it away from Grindelwald unscathed."

Abraxas noted Hermione's flinch and Tom's grimace. "Yes. Mostly. We stayed the night in Hogsmead since Albus and Perenelle had spells set up to alert them when we ported in. The Flamels are evacuating to New Orleans under an assumed name. Albus and I don't want Grindelwald anywhere near them and their knowledge. We'll keep up the fiction of them being in their home and report that they deserted us at the end of the summer, hopefully in a way that will annoy 'ol Grindelwobbly."

Abraxas took Lucius from Hermione and swaddled him securely before gently laying him down.

"How do I do that spell? I would very much like to know that the two of you make it back before you pop in to tell me."

Tom smirked. "Which is why you were waiting in the room that we normally floo into."

"Nonsense, I was simply enjoying time with my son. While I waited to hear if the madman you are infiltrating managed to kill you both."

Hermione waved her wand at the door and cast charms quickly. "Sorry, just remembered that Helga is allowed out of her rooms, hasn't left for whatever exotic locale that she prefers, she doesn't know anything about our extracurricular activities…and she's quite fond of Jean Marie Bassett."

Abraxas plopped into his chair with a sigh and summoned a large glass of brandy. Hermione frowned, it was just past noon, but he needed a drink.

"Helga is staying."

Hermione choked and summoned a much smaller glass of brandy to her own hand. "What the hell?"

Abraxas shrugged. "She's too fond of Lucius to leave him, and even she knows that raising him without the blood wards on the property is akin to signing his death warrant. Thus, she is staying. We're going to be sensible and discreet in our liaisons…present a united front as we raise the boy…then once he's able to defend himself, she may ask for a quiet divorce. I've offered her very fair terms."

"You wanted this?"

Abraxas shook his head. "No. But when she decided what she preferred, I asked for a few things myself. I didn't want her to be in and out of Lucius' life…better to either go or stay than to cause constant turbulence."

Tom frowned. "That's very…practical."

Abraxas nodded, trying to hide the fact that it stung that Tom boiled all his careful manipulation and plotting down to one, albeit accurate, phrase.

Tom clasped his arm in a strong, steady grip that surprised him. Hard to think of him as just a boy when Tom was slightly taller than Abraxas now. When had that happened?

"It's a long time Abraxas, but they good news is that you won't be alone."

He smiled up at Tom, strangely touched. Hermione gave him a one-armed hug. "So Helga is going to be a player on the board…I must admit I'm still not happy about the idea of bringing her into our happy little conspiracy."

Abraxas flinched. "No. She's…"

Tom broke in, surprisingly tactful. "Not conspiracy material. I'm surprised we are even having this discussion."

Abraxas laughed as Hermione mock-glared at her young paramour. Then she turned to him and continued. "we'll need to be more careful when we are conspiring here. And you need to suss out her real feelings on Grindelwald. No need to let her fester as a possible alley to him in your own home."

"That would be dangerous."

"Particularly since we encouraged that little worm Jean Marie to befriend her."

Hermione shook her head. "Ordered. Thankfully Gellert doesn't trust him. He won't send Jean Marie to spy on you unless…"

Abraxas put a comforting arm around the witch…and promptly ignored Tom's glare since the boy had been about to do the same thing. Nor did he move when Tom came up and hugged her. "Unless he suspects the two of you."

He and Tom shared a look, and it wasn't really all that friendly. He probably shouldn't have mentioned it so close to their last encountered with Grindlewald. Whatever had happened had left Hermione a bit shaken, and Tom territorial and irritated. Abraxas sighed and detangled himself from them. Hermione spun so she had her back to Tom and pulled him into a quick hug. The position reminded him of things he had no business thinking about. He pulled out of the hug as quickly as he could without giving offence. Tom looked smug as he held her possessively from behind. Hermione looked slightly annoyed that her boyfriend wouldn't let her hug a friend without holding her…but Abraxas thought Tom was rather wise for taking the precaution.

"Let's get you two settled. We can decide what should be done with Bassett later."

 **SSSSS**

"How goes our little infiltration?"

Sergei kept his face totally blank. "We lost three guards. Our spy, little Sophie, reported that they were the ones abusing the other children in the days leading up to the rebel attack. "

"The perfect bait."

Sergei winced internally. Gellert had selected the caravan personally. Sadistic guards purportedly taking women and children of traitors to a camp. Orders were simple: see that they arrive alive. The guards had taken full advantage. Sergei felt ill.

It was a brilliant trap…if you were a psychotic mad man who was willing to sacrifice your own men and allow children to be abused as a cover.

Sergei thought long and hard about his own children and nodded, as Gellert wished him to. He never wanted to see his own children at the mercy of the man he called lord, and it could happen all too easily these days. The wand had always been a destabilizing influence for Gellert, but since he'd worn the ring and added the cloak…or perhaps Sergei had finally seen what was there all along. Perhaps he shouldn't blame arcane items for the madness that was purely Gellert's. No, not madness. The man was completely capable of rational thought. Call it what it was. Evil. His Lord was evil.

Sergei nodded as Gellert spoke, not heeding a word of it.

General Ivan was even worse than Gellert…but none of the others could keep the loyalty of the army. If those two were killed and he had the heir…

"Ivanova will never know what hit her!" Gellert grinned about pulling one over on the leader of the resistance, by using a child as a spy.

Sergei bowed. "I am pleased you are pleased my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I have many things to see to…"

Gellert waved him away.

Sergei walked out, thinking of ways to rid the world of General Ivan…because one the general was gone, Sergei could save the country by ridding it of Gellert Grindlewald.

 **HGHGHG**

Hermione was eating breakfast at the manor, ignoring the way Tom and Abraxas were avoiding each other's eyes (she didn't know what that was about and she didn't care…two alpha males had to do a certain amount of scuffling if they were going to remain friends, and she left them to it…)

A snowy white owl popped into the breakfast room and dropped a parcel in her lap. She felt a sharp pang when she thought about Harry's owl…dead so many years in a battle that would never happen now. She smiled to herself. Whatever else she had done, Tom would never be Lord Voldemort. That was something to be proud of.

He saw the look she was giving him, but her attention quickly turned to the package.

She swore under her breath, and took a quick look at Tom. Then she quickly apparated to Hogsmead and took the portkey to Grindelwald alone.

 **GGGGG**

She came, clearly still in her morning clothing, no artifice in the single braid down her back or the freshly scrubbed skin on her cheeks.

He groused, "It took you long enough." She said nothing, simply waited with her head bowed.

Gellert shoved the copy of the daily prophet under her nose. "Tell me what you see."

She frowned as she looked down at the picture. "Albus. He's been campaigning for the chief warlock seat. Griselda Marchbanks is thinking of retiring so he's spending…"

"Look at him." Gellert seethed as he waited for his supposedly observant protégée to pick up on what he'd seen the moment he looked at the wizarding photograph on the front page…out there, for all the world to see!

Her lips formed a tiny 'oh' of surprise.

Gellert glared as the Albus in the picture caught the eye of Edvard Olivander. Albus gave the man a single look, but that look was enough. There was comfort in that look, but also heat. It made Gellert feel nearly bloody insane to see that look played out over and over again in black and white.

"If they aren't lovers right now, they soon will be." He growled.

She gave him a speculative look as the necklace she never took off moved slightly around her neck. She turned his attention from the bauble. "Why would that matter?

Gellert pinned the little witch to the wall with a swish of his wand. "It matters." His eyes flicked to the necklace again. Had it moved? It almost looked like it was curling to…

Sergei cleared his throat. "My lord."

Gellert ceased his contemplation of Hermione's necklace and turned to shout, "Not now."

The man looked stricken and Gellert heaved a sigh. Why could no one do anything without him? Hermione was generally supremely competent and yet she'd missed all signs of Albus falling for some useless jumped-up Auror with a complexion so pale it would be like kissing a fish. Now Sergei couldn't get through a quiet morning without interrupting.

He let Hermione fall to the floor and turned on his second in command. "What?"

"General Ivan is dead."

Gellert turned to his most rusted bodyguard and frowned. "Who killed him?" He'd known Ivan for thirty years. The man had cheated death in so many battles and skirmishes, often laughing as he sliced through opponents. He was a powerful wizard, bloodthirsty as they came…and loyal-ish.

He looked at Sergei, whose loyalty he trusted a tad more than the others.

If Ivan had been plotting behind his back, he might have died at Sergei's wandpoint…or bare hands. The large Russian was not picky.

Gellert took a deep breath. "Let me rephrase: what happened to him? Obviously I will not jump to conclusions…"

The other man shrugged convincingly. "Who can say why a man takes a midnight stroll while drunk near the manticore?"

Gellert frowned. "Conduct an investigation and report back to me on the matter." That should give Sergei enough room to manipulate the facts into a story that would convince the army that their beloved general had died by accident…

He turned back to Hermione, who had watched the whole affair with interest. "I assume you can do something about the matter with Albus?"

She shrugged. "What would you have me do? We're trying to sway him to your cause. You didn't ask me to keep him from shagging whoever he likes the meantime. I had no idea that it would matter to you."

Gellert found that there was a vein in his head that pounded slightly when people annoyed him. Why was Hermione so slow when Albus was involved? He would think it was obvious…

Well perhaps no to everyone, but quite obvious to him that Albus should come unencumbered by a romantic attachment beyond the ones that Gellert had planned for him. He would share…but under his terms.

"Deal with Olivander. I don't care how you do it, but remove him from Albus' life. I will joyfully bathe in his blood if I get my hands on him and Albus was always too soft to take murder as a complement."

Hermione smirked slightly and Gellert felt himself calm. She bowed her head slightly. "As you say."

Gellert waved her away and proceeded to enlarge the photo from the paper so that he could throw hexes at Olivander.

"Sergei, get me another copy of this paper!"

 **HGHGHG**

She was shaking when she landed back at the room in Hogsmead. Tom and Abraxas were there. She could feel the anger radiating off of them.

Tom came at her, running diagnostic spells over her, including a rape kit spell that was frankly a bit more intrusive than she liked.

She put a hand on his arm, but he tossed it off and paced around the room.

"I know you are angry…"

He turned back to her, eyes incredulous at her understatement and snarled, "Well spotted."

She took a deep breath.

"You just don't understand Tom."

Abraxas watched, eyes narrowed. ""We understand that you went, deliberately ignoring aid that was right there…"

"His letter was angry. I could tell from the handwriting."

Tom nearly screamed. "More reason to take me, or not to go, you stupid woman."

She ignored the taunt, though it hurt more than she liked.

"He asked for me. There was no reason to put both of us in danger."

Tom was shaking. "You promised you wouldn't go without me Hermione. I begged you not to, and you agreed. You _lied_ to me."

She could feel the blood running out of her face. She had lied to him.

She felt her legs turn to jelly. Abraxas caught her with one strong arm around her middle and Tom relented enough to move the chair so that Abraxas could wrestle her into it. Her limbs were unresponsive.

She took a deep, strangled breath when she realized she hadn't taken in any air for a moment.

She closed her eyes and pulled her arms around herself, trying to organize her thoughts.

She looked up. Abraxas looked concerned but still irritated. Tom looked irritated but still concerned. Needless to say there wasn't much to choose between them.

"I don't have an excuse."

Tom's voice was low. "Why did you leave me? Tell me the truth." The force of the command hit her like a non-verbal Impero.

"I will always put your life before mine." She hadn't meant to say the words.

Tom made a noise that sounded like a battle cry, punched the wall, and turned around and kissed her.


	62. Chapter 62

_**AN: Sorry guys. Despite warnings from all of you AND my Dr. I managed to reinjure my wrist (in my defense, I fell out of bed after a nightmare. Writers have incredibly detailed and realistic nightmares.) This is a bit short, but I didn't want to disappoint. So here's at least part of what I intended to write this week.**_

Hermione had to admit, Edvard Olivander was a very patient man.

Part of that was probably the fact that he was seventy years old, which was firmly middle aged, even in the wizarding world.

Part of it was probably due to his temperament…he was exceedingly clever, but he often appeared laconic and even a tad lazy because he moved with deliberation.

But it seemed that even Edvard's patience was wearing thin.

"Absolutely not. This has gone far enough Albus. We don't need an inside spy if it means risking you or the children."

Albus looked up from his whiskey. She'd left Tom with Abraxas to tell Albus about Gellert's little epiphany. As much as she hated to admit it, he needed some space. He didn't like that she was leaving alone (which actually was fairly annoying…she was there to protect and guide him, not the other way around).

Of course, dealing with Albus under the current circumstances was equally trying. Her patience was thin. Albus had just proposed accompanying the children to Grindelwald's lair.

Olivander was so angry his colorless cheeks seemed to have a slight tinge of pink. (Hermione occasionally wondered if he was part albino vela or some such nonsense…the man truly did not have much pigment.)

What he did have was enough sway over Albus Dumbledore so that the man allowed himself to discard the noble, self-sacrificing plan that would have been very, very risky and entirely unnecessary.

Hermione was tempted to raise her eyes heavenward and exclaim "Gryffindors!" The fact that she didn't was mainly due to a lingering allegiance to her old house.

She'd once been a reckless Gryffindor too. She'd often wondered, after the excitement of her youth died down, as the years passed, how she, Harry, and Ron had all managed to survive their teen years…not just the attention of Voldemort, but the harebrained antics that they came up with all on their own. She'd love to blame the boys for most of it, but the dragon idea always reminded her that she was well able to have her own Gryffindor moments.

Still, it was pleasant to have someone else who could rein Albus in.

She wondered what had happened to Edvard in her timeline. Had he died in the war? Had he and Dumbledore met in any case? It seemed likely, but Albus in this timeline was far different from the one in her original. Could that be age, or was it her influence?

Olivander was done raking Albus over the coals and her professor was looking remarkably contrite. She felt a momentary gratitude. Then the insufferable man had the gall to order her to cease and desist all spying.

She narrowed her eyes and drew her wand.

It was all well and good for him to control Albus, but _she_ wasn't sleeping with the man.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "You can't actually stop me you know. I can spin anything you do for Gellert. You can make it harder, put me in danger, but you can't stop me unless you think you can kill me." Her tone implied that she didn't think he could.

Olivander growled. "You are entirely too sure of yourself young lady. I propose a bet. If you duel me and remain standing for five minutes, I'll allow this farce to continue."

She sighed. "You do realize that dueling is not the only skill in the wizarding world, correct? It's not even the most useful."

The man was still annoyed about Albus so he snarked "That sounds like the argument of someone who knows they can not win the bet. Children shouldn't be…"

He stopped talking because she shot a silencing spell at him. He glared and removed the spell nonverbally.

She lowered her chin defiantly. "I didn't say no. I could do with a new sparring partner."

Olivander gave her a small, condescending smile. Hermione inclined her head and fluidly positioned herself in her favorite dueling pose, one that was not popular until the nineties.

She was not happy about the whole situation with Tom, and frankly, she blamed Olivander and Albus a bit for annoying the psychopath in the first place. Not that they should have to hide…but it had placed a bit more stress on herself and Tom and she was already walking a tightrope.

To be perfectly honest a good, vicious duel would actually feel wonderful at this point.

She was fifteen and a half. Her magic was very nearly mature. As she had guessed when she first came to the timeline, Tom had more raw power than she did, but she had more control, and she knew more spells than most unspeakables.

She let her mind go as they bowed and began the duel. She didn't wait for him to begin. She started out with dark, aggressive spells. Graptschling, LLweledys, and morde vi were a few of the nonverbals she tossed at him. The first was an old German curse that made one's hands turn on the witch or wizard, effectively controlling their wand…it was a close cousin to the Impero, though significantly less insidious. Lleledys was a Welsh abomination that caused the victim to writhe in pain. Morde Vi was something she'd made up herself, a nasty jinx that caused the unfortunate witch or wizard that was hit by it to hemorrhage in the eyes.

Olivander recognized enough of the spells to make his pale eyes widen and to strengthen his shield.

Hermione knew he was good (he was head auror after all). She didn't let her depth of knowledge or her former experience make her cocky. She dueled like a professional boxer. Dancing around, dodging his jinxes and stronger hexes (he wasn't using anything particularly dark, but a blasting hex could kill you as quickly as an Avada). She'd catch his shield faltering after a particularly strong spell and then she's slip a nasty jinx in like a stiletto blade.

She didn't dare let it go on too long.

She ended it with a powerful blasting hex that shattered his shield and tossed him arse over teakettle.

She might not have quite the raw power that Tom did, but she was still a very, very powerful, canny, and experienced witch.

Albus looked at her with reproachful eyes.

She sighed. "Don't look at me like that. Now you can nurse him back to health. And he won't try to interfere in what I need to do again."

She knew her voice was so cold that it practically crackled through the air, but at the moment she didn't care.

"I am very tired of proving myself over and over only to have all of you question me at every bloody turn. Actually, questions don't bother me, but you _will not_ singlehandedly determine that you will 'save me from myself'. I'm not omnipotent, but I'm fully capable of making my own decisions and living with the results."

She blinked back tears.

Albus frowned and put a comforting arm around her as Edvard walked up.

"I apologize. Albus told me that you were an excellent duelist. I should have listened to him."

She sniffed. "No, it's my fault. I came in looking for a fight. Tom was very angry when I took the portkey to Gellert without him."

Albus shook his head. "You didn't mention that when you told us about your little trip."

"I could tell that he was angry when I saw the note. I didn't want Tom anywhere near him."

Edvard blinked his colorless eyes. "Why? There is surely more safety in numbers."

She sighed; a man his age should understand. "Gellert has always known that I love Tom. Putting him within reach when he was angry with me would be unwise."

Albus nodded. "He would have done something awful to boy, no doubt. He specializes in awful things."

Edvard nodded and sighed, casting a small healing spell at his back. "I'm not so young that I can take a fall like that without repercussions. Nor can I avoid the results when I allow my temper sway over my actions." He looked absolutely contrite. "I am sorry. I simply can't allow my temper to dictate my actions." He gave her a courtly bow and she blushed.

"You are a better man than I, Edvard. It would have taken me days to apologize."

He allowed himself a small smile for her comment, and then sighed. "What are we going to do about Gellert?"


	63. Chapter 63

_**AN: Hey guys. We're going to go back to updating on Sundays. I somehow got volunteered to take up the concession stand for the spring league basketball for my daughter's team, so we'll have six weeks of crazy weekends. One day, I will learn how to say no. Today is not that day.**_

 _ **In other news, my fabulous new beta QueenVulca and I are going to begin the process of editing Champion very soon (with any luck this next week sometime). The edits won't show up immediately, because I want to add them all at once, but I will add a 'new chapter' with a note once the edits are uploaded. It's not going to be fast, because I'm still writing the story, but with her help, we'll make the story much more readable.**_

Hermione looked up through her lashes as she finished the final points on a report to Grindelwald. She was working quicker than she had anticipated, but the war wasn't going to wait for the original timeline. Her interference (or perhaps her mere presence) had changed things.

She was actively brewing the basis for the 'fake' philosopher's stone in her en suite bathroom at Malfoy manor. She wondered if she'd done something in one of her past lives that doomed her to forever be brewing in toilets. Actually, considering how much trouble she'd made for Professor Snape, he might have been the one who cursed her.

Tom was studying a pile of books that Garrett Olivander had brought. Mass production of the shield cloaks wasn't quite as massive as they had hoped. The spells were difficult for most wizards to set and only a few unspeakables had been allowed to help the young wandmaker. Tom was trying to refine the process to make it easier for other wizards to accomplish the spell.

He was still blisteringly angry at her about her jaunt to Gellert's. She could feel the wrath coming off of him in waves.

His anger did nothing to keep him away from her…in fact, he seemed to loom over her every minute as he fumed. It was almost as if he didn't trust her not to go off and get herself killed at the first opportunity.

This nonsense had been going for days. She admitted that he had reason to be angry with her, but the root problem was that he didn't really understand that she was her own human being, and the choice to live or die was her own. Not that she'd forgive him for dying either. But he was supposed to be in this timeline. She was just a cosmic afterthought. Her death (for the right cause) would not harm the timeline. One day, she would have to explain to him why.

She sighed. She didn't want to die. But she was tired. So tired.

She jotted down a couple of sentences pertaining to Albus and tied the report on a tawny owl that she used for international letters to Gellert. Then she stood up and stretched. It was late.

She turned to Tom. "I'm going to bed."

He nodded and put away his book. She didn't react as he followed her to 'their' room. His anger didn't keep him from curling up with her every night either. In fact, he seemed to hold her even tighter.

She used the bathroom to change into her night clothes and absently brushed her teeth before checking on the stone one last time. It didn't look like much at this point, just a cauldron of creamy pink potion. Convinced that it was at the proper consistency for this stage of brewing, she put her hair in a braid and crawled into bed. Tom stalked into the bathroom as she snuggled into the blankets.

He was out quickly. She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep so she could get away from his mood for a few hours.

She felt the bed dip as he slid into the soft green sheets, the subtle hint of lavender reaching her nose. The Malfoy elves never forgot the little touches. Each and every sheet was stored with sprigs of lavender in a cedar closet…they had a distinctive, pleasant scent.

Tom was lying on his back, unnaturally silent. She waited for a few moments, and finally sat up in the bed and turned to him. "We'll have to talk about this eventually."

He snorted elegantly but kept his arms crossed under his head. "I don't see why. We're at a bit of an impasse. I believe you should remain alive, while you apparently are trying to kill yourself."

"You're being overly dramatic. Nothing happened. We've had much worse at Gellert's hands."

He sat up, the sheet showing off his pale, naked torso. "It could have been worse. Easily."

She turned and looked at his stubborn, much-loved face. "It would have been worse if I had brought you."

He snarled. "At least you wouldn't have been alone if things _had_ gone wrong."

"Gellert both desires you and desires to get you out of the way Tom. As angry as he was over Albus, he would have found a way to hurt you."

"And if he'd taken out on you? Raped you like all those poor girls? 'Gotten his wick wet' as he put it?"

Tom was red in the face, but he wasn't backing down.

"I had the portkey. I won't allow him to rape me. I won't stay for that, no matter how many lives I could save."

Tom's fist clinched in the sheet. "It's good to know there _are_ things you won't do for the greater good."

"Tom, I think I did the right thing when I went without you." She stopped his protest. "But I was wrong, very wrong to have gone without explaining it. I knew that time was of the essence, and I didn't want to argue with you about it, because it would have made it more dangerous."

"Then you shouldn't have argued."

She huffed, "I shouldn't have to. I need you to be logical about it…even when you hate it. Like I was when you dueled Sergei. I didn't want to let you do it, but you asked me to."

"I found a way to ask you surrounded by enemies." His lips were drawn in a thin line.

She bowed her head, hiding in her hair. "You did. And I should have. I am sorry. Very sorry that I worried you." She reached up and touched his face. He was so dear to her. He really had no idea…

He pulled her to his chest. "Sorry isn't enough."

She nodded, loving the feel of his warm, strong arms around her. "I know Tom. I will promise that I will discuss things with you from now on if it is possible."

He pushed her back so he could look in her eyes with a scowl. "Hermione…"

"No Tom. This is a war. You don't want me to lie to you, so there isn't much I can promise. I can promise that I would give my life to keep you safe."

He looked into her eyes forcefully. Merlin, his stare had weight. "I would never forgive you if you did that."

She caressed his face and put her forehead on his lips, needing to feel the warmth of his skin. "I know. But you'd be alive to do it."

He held her tighter. "I don't want to live without you."

"I don't want to live without you either."

He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if you want to live at all."

She turned over, letting him spoon her body as her head sunk into the lavender scented pillow. "I want to be here if this is where you are."

 **AMAMAM**

After days of chilly relations between Tom and Hermione, the dam appeared to have broken. They were still tentative with each other, but the chilling rage he'd sensed from Tom had finally worn itself out.

Abraxas took a contemplative bite of egg as he watched them. Hermione didn't look like she'd been crying (which was something Helga did at the drop of a hat), and Tom didn't look drunk. So whatever their coping mechanisms were, they were better than the ones he used in his marriage.

Helga joined them at the breakfast table, a little late despite the fact that breakfast was served at ten on Sundays.

"You are looking well my dear." His wife blushed and neither of them mentioned the fact that she had reconciled with her longtime 'friend'. If a decent bedding put the woman in a good mood, there was nothing he would say against it.

Helena poured her daughter-in-law a steaming cup of tea. "Did fair Janet leave early this morning my dear? You should really invite your friend to eat the morning after; it's only good manners to one's…friends."

Abraxas snorted lightly. "Of course she's welcome to dine with the family."

Helga looked from one to the other, apparently trying to determine if they were mocking her. "I'll extend the invitation."

Abraxas nodded. Then turned the conversation to other matters. "Our summer ball is approaching. If you don't mind, I'd like for you and Hermione to work with mother on planning it."

He saw his wife's eyes flit to Hermione, but she nodded pleasantly. "Of course. Helena has a well-earned reputation for elegant balls."

His mother nodded as she finished her breakfast. "Yes, well, if we're going to work on this, we'd best go to the greenhouses. The gardening elves have a new breed of rose that is ready for the ball. I want to get a better idea of the exact shade so that we can charm the napkins to match."

The ladies hurried out, but not before Hermione gave him a knowing, long-suffering look.

Ton lifted a brow. "Why exactly are you having your mother teach my girlfriend how to be lady of your manor?"

Abraxas took a sip of his tea and grimaced at the fact that it was too cold. He hit the cup with a quick charm. "It's something every pureblood girl learns."

Tom raised his brow but didn't mention what they both knew: Hermione was not a pureblood.

Abraxas shrugged. "It's obviously not about _being_ pureblood. It's about _acting_ like a pureblood. It's part of knowing the language." He buttered a scone. "Also, it will keep them busy while you tell me what concessions you wrung out of our favorite curly-haired witch."

Abraxas watched Tom's face carefully as he tried to project indifference. Tom was very good normally, but he sometimes let things slip when Hermione was involved.

"I didn't get much. She refuses to promise anything she can't guarantee."

Abraxas pulled a face. "Lovely. With a war on it gives her nearly unlimited wiggle room to go off and get herself killed if it pops into her pretty head to do so."

Tom frowned and viciously stabbed the last piece of melon on his plate. Then the boy seemed to deflate. "I should stupefy her and smuggle her into New Orleans with Perenelle and Nicholas."

"And how would you keep her there against her will?"

He shrugged. "With wards that would drop a dragon at thirty paces?"

Abraxas pretended to tap his chin in a mock-thoughtful way. "Why let Grindelwald have all the fun of killing her when you could do it yourself trying to keep her safe…"

Tom paled. "Damn it."

Abraxas stood and put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "It's dangerous to be divided. Wring every last safety concession you can out of her, but don't try to force her. You'll regret it if you manage to win."

Tom looked up at him and ran his fingers though his normally perfect hair. "You are right. But I don't like it. I want her safe."

"I know you do. And you know I want both of you safe, but I have to let you do what you think is best. If you had proper parents you'd never get away with this nonsense."

Tom smirked. "I'm not calling you daddy, Malfoy."

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert opened the missive from Hermione with great anticipation, and then frowned. It was mostly about firm progress on the Philosopher's Stone, which was, admittedly, a great achievement.

Unfortunately, the achievement he wanted to hear about most was that Albus was no longer seeing that fish-faced auror.

He frowned at the parchment for a moment. Hermione had written two sentences at the end of her letter stating that she was looking into the matter.

Merlin! Did he have to do everything himself?

"Sergei…contact Captain Smith in England. I have a little job for him."

His second in command bowed lightly and Gellert smiled as he considered his options. It would give him great pleasure to kill Olivander himself, but it would probably be better if the death looked like an accident. His allies in England were skittish after the Ministry cleaned a few out (along with several that he hadn't even recruited…he had to wonder if someone had just used the arrests as an excuse to get rid of their political rivals).

However it occurred, Edvard Olivander had to die.

 **ADADAD**

Edvard paced restlessly. "It's not as if we could stage a public breakup."

Albus shrugged. They could…they could carefully stage scenes where they vehemently disagreed in public, but he'd really rather not. What he and Edvard had was new…one nasty comment that was supposed to be fake might end the whole thing.

And Albus was happy for the first time in years. Giving that up just as it began to mature was something he was loath to do.

Albus put a calming hand on the other man's well-muscled arm. "We will think of something."

Edvard wrapped his arms around Albus' slightly taller body and buried his head in the crook of Albus' neck. "I will not give you up. I probably should, for the sake of keeping the spy in place…but I am so very tired of Gellert Grindelwald holding the whole world hostage. His ranks have taken a huge hit and he doesn't even realize it, Hermione knows many of his secrets. General Ivan died recently. It's time to strike at him and remove him from the board once and for all."

Albus rubbed soothing circles into Edvard's back. "No, it isn't. We have a lot of good ideas, but we need a spy in place to make them happen. And don't forget how devious Gellert is. How patient. He could still decide to retrench and hold off on attacking England."

"He's an avaricious bastard. He couldn't stand for us to remain autonomous."

"He also thinks he's about to be handed the secret to immortality. Who knows what that will do to his long-term goals?"

Edvard sighed. There was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Olivander?"

A young wizard poked his head into Edvard's office.

"Stuart?"

Albus nodded to the young auror-in-training.

The younger man stammered "You have a visitor sir."

Edvard frowned lightly. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

The younger man nodded. "He said it would be a surprise, but that you might be willing to make time to see him. He says his name is John Smith…Captain John Smith?"

Edvard smiled fondly and turned to Albus. "He's an ex-auror and an old friend. Would you like to meet him?"

Albus shook his head. "No thank you. I'll just scurry back to Hogwarts." Albus stepped into the floo without a physical demonstration of his affection, but it wouldn't do to traumatize young Stuart. The young man had very recently graduated Hogwarts and probably had no idea his ex-professors were living, breathing human beings.

A man with a truly remarkable set of whiskers walked into the room just as the flames pulled Albus away.

 **SSSSS**

Sergei didn't like Captain Smith, but the man was quite responsive to his lord's commands. He assured Sergei that the matter of Olivander would be taken care of, and then signed out.

It was essential, now that General Ivan was dead, that Gellert suspect nothing from Sergei. He was arranging for his family to be smuggled to England and then into America. Meer hours after they were safe, he would strike. Gellert Grindlewald would not trouble his country again, and his heir would put a stop to the excesses that would ruin the country if they continued. No country could sustain the heavy taxes and the constant threat of violence.

Sergei looked at his watch. He had half an hour before Gellert would expect him to be back at his side like an eager hound. He took the opportunity to look in on little Sophie. She was wearing a small brass locket that had a mirror charm on it. He could see what she saw, but no one could see him, unless she opened it.

Life at the rebel camp was more orderly that the girl was used to. The orphans were herded into a make-shift school tent and they spent an hour every day learning to read and writing sums.

Sophie was one of the top students and Sergei had to smother a moment of pride.

She had not, however, found out anything particularly useful in Ivanova's ranks.

He watched her for a few moment and was about to clear the mirror when Ivanova herself entered the school room.

"Dalton, I need to meet with my contact about more food."

The short Englishman who taught the children nodded. "Have we begun out efforts in France madam?"

She nodded. Sergei frowned. The rebellion had been quiet in France for some time. There were pockets of resistance, but they were mostly French wizards. And entire community of veelas had actually eaten the last group of men they'd sent to conquer the beautiful women! Of course, Sergei had anticipated heavy losses and sent some of the little bastards who kept raping and pillaging in the conquered areas. It was a war…there were simple ways of getting rid of those who could not follow orders.

Ivanova disappeared through the tent. Sergei wiped the mirror. He would get a report from Sophie later. It was paramount that she not seem suspicious.

 **SSSSSS**

Sophie nodded to Madam Ivanova when she felt the connection drop.

The woman grinned down at her. "So, your contact with Grindelwald has the information?"

Sophie shrugged. "He stopped watching." She turned cautious eyes to the leader of the rebellion. "Grindelwald will not like it if he tells him the wrong information."

Ivanova nodded. "You are right. We must make some noise in France so that they will know that you are a good source of information."

Sophie nodded grimly. The first thing she had done when she was saved from those animals that Sergei had put her with was contact Ivanova and tell her that she had been sent to spy. The older woman had seen what a gift that this information was, so Sophie dutifully went through her day to day routine until it was time to begin feeding the wizard misinformation.

Did she feel slightly contrite for betraying Sergei? Slightly. But doing her part to topple Grindelwald trumped whatever loyalty Sergei had been able to engineer in a week's worth of kindness. Especially when he put her in a group that systematically raped and brutalized the women and children around her to make for better bait. Even though she'd known that she was safe under charms that he had placed himself, she was still witness to more horrors than she'd seen, even living on the streets. She'd seen the after effects no few number of times, but she'd never actually seen someone raped out in the open.

She felt a deep, abiding hatred rise during those dark days, waiting for the rebels to rescue her…knowing that Grindelwald was using their civilized hearts against them.

She made her decision during one brutal session where a ten year old girl nearly died at the hands of those bloody guards.

If she ever met Gellert Grindelwald, she would rip his heart out with her own hands.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom frowned at the floo as it blazed to life in Malfoy Manor. It was late, and he, Hermione, and Abraxas had settled into a quiet evening, working on separate projects, but all in Abraxas' study.

Albus stumbled out of the floo, wild eyed.

"Edvard…Edvard was poisoned. I was able to counteract it, and I have the perpetrator, but I need you to watch the wretch while I keep Edvard stable in my office. We can't go to St. Mungos."

Hermione was up, grabbing a handful of powder before Albus finished his second sentence, with Tom following behind. Abraxas took the time to write his mother a quick note, and followed Tom into the fire.

Edvard Olivander was lying on a transfigured chaise, and Captain Smith was tied to a chair, bleeding profusely.

Hermione didn't spare the man a glance, as she checked Edvard and Albus tried to bat her wand away. "I already did that."

Hermione shrugged. "You seemed distressed; I thought I would double check."

"Of course I am distressed. My crazy ex-lover just sent an assassin to kill a man he only suspected I was sleeping with."

Hermione gave his arm a comforting pat.

Tom looked at Captain Smith. "He's in bad shape. What happened?"

Albus shot a stinging hex at Captain Smith, a strong one. "Edvard knew this man. He met with him in his office and poisoned him. Edvard figured it out in time to detain Smith and stuff a bezor down his throat. I added another antidote when I found him moments later. Thank Merlin he managed to call me before he dropped."

Tom smirked. "How did he get all bloody?"

Albus shrugged coldly. "I really can't recall. Must have blacked out. I did seem to have some of his skin on my fist when I woke."

Abraxas put up another layer of privacy wards. "Understandable. It's going to be hard to alter that memory though."

Hermione turned around. "I say we don't."

"What?"

She looked at Smith with narrowed eyes. "I think Smith is one of Gellert's best agents in England. I say we lock him in your dungeons Abraxas, and then let the world think that he died killing Olivander."

"Why?" Abraxas looked intrigued, Albus uncomfortable.

Tom stepped in. "Because that way we kill two birds with one stone. We remove Smith and we remove Albus' 'love interest'. It buys us some time with Gellert. Olivander will have to play dead, but that will free him to organize the war effort behind the scenes."

Albus nodded. "Gellert will just send someone else if we don't do something about it now."

Abraxas nodded. "We'll have to organize a funeral for Olivander and a note in the Prophet with a terse message that Smith is dead…let Gellert wonder. We can feed him whatever story we like through either the spies we know about or through Hermione." He took a look at Albus' bright pink robes. "You have to let me dress you…we want you to look distraught."

Albus nodded absently as he shot spells at Edvard and Abraxas levitated the prisoner to the floo.

Tom followed and wrapped a blindfold around the man's head when he began to wake, and then hit him with another stunner as they entered the flames.

Abraxas nodded pleasantly. Tom turned to his friend curiously as they climbed out of the fire. "How long have you been waiting for the opportunity to dress Albus in decent robes?"

Abraxas chuckled. "Since I first saw his periwinkle robes when I was eleven."


	64. Chapter 64

_**AN:**_

 _ **I don't often do this but I need to speak to the Guest Reviewer who keeps leaving messages saying that they 'really need to stop reading this fic.'**_

 _ **I have a possible alternative.**_

 _ **I'd like to invite this reader to write their own version of this story. Feel free to take any plot devices, characterizations, lift whole scenes and re-write them if you want…whatever you need. Write another story, let me know that you did, and I'll come read it.**_

 _ **Don't worry. I have never once left a harsh review. I don't intend to start now. All I ask is that you give this story a nod in the introduction and that you don't name it Champion…I don't want to confuse the people who are actually enjoying my version.**_

 _ **I'd love to see what you do with the story if you want to take a crack at it. You seem to have a vision of how it 'should' have gone that's different from mine.**_

 _ **And who knows? Maybe my guest reviewer has a better idea of how this story really should go…something I'll love more than my version, some twist I really should have thought of…I don't want to deny myself the opportunity to read that!**_

 _ **Sorry for the very long author's note. I shall try to update again next Sunday.**_

Edvard Olivander's funeral was sparsely attended. His Aurors showed up in their uniform robes with silent, somber expressions. Edvard was not a friendly man, but he was an excellent supervisor, and he would undoubtedly be missed by the Aurors who valued his integrity and his passion for justice.

Helga was a first cousin to Edvard. She came in a dark veiled hat and sat unmoving through the ceremony, with Abraxas beside her.

Hermione and Tom were in the first row, with the family, but it was obvious that it was mostly to support Albus.

Albus stood with his head bowed, long beard and hair in shining waves. He was wearing a fine, dark set of robes over what appeared to be a late 18th century suit, complete with cravat and a stylish walking cane that sat listlessly beside him. The snowy white of the cravat was the only hint of color on him, which seemed to be a departure so vast that it drew the attention of every gossipy old woman who filtered in. Albus was well known in the community after all, and his flamboyant dressing style had been the talk of the wizarding world for nearly five decades since he made a splash with his NEWTS.

Hermione inspected his clothing with approval and just a bit of trepidation. Perfectly shined shoes, crisp creases in all the proper places in his robes…it was more than obvious that Albus had not dressed himself.

She straightened her own black dress robes. What she wore was of no consequence, but Helena Malfoy was a force of nature when it came to all matters of fashion. Hermione had learned in her past life that one only had so much time and energy, and it was essential pick one's battles…sometimes letting another person dress you like a doll was the time-saving proposition.

The speaker was one of the Olivander cousins.

The pale man stood beside the casket and rested his hand on the coffin, which was spelled shut. It would have been terrible if one of the more talented guests had recognized that the Edvard in the coffin was nothing more than a bar of soap that had been transfigured into a semblance of Edvard. Hermione had watched Albus' careful use of the wand as he shaped the doppelganger. The end result would pass inspection by everyone…and if it was pale and drawn…well that would be attributed to the fact that the soul had passed through the veil.

The cousin (Hermione couldn't quite remember his name…James? Henry?) cast a quiet sonorous charm on himself. "We are gathered today to bid farewell to our friend and family member, Edvard Olivander. Evdard was taken from us too soon in the course of his duty. He was a quiet man, a man who kept to himself and didn't make friends easily. He showed that he cared through his actions rather than words…but he was one of the best men I ever knew."

The cousin choked a little and managed to get through the rest of the eulogy without breaking down. Hermione winced. The poor man was a childhood friend o Edvard's. He, like the Aurors, was not in on the secret of Edvard's survival. Only she, Tom, Gellert, Albus, and Abraxas knew for sure, though Helena suspected.

Helga was once again left out of the loop, but she'd been more interested in finding the perfect ensemble for the funeral than in her cousin's death.

Hermione wrinkled her nose briefly; she simply didn't like Helga, and she never would.

As the casket was lowered into the ground via levitation charm, Hermione ground her teeth. Tom sat beside her, unnaturally still with an expression of moderate grief on his face that was perfect for the situation. His gift for acting was a tiny bit scary. Hermione didn't think her own expression was as good as his. She probably just managed to look constipated instead of concerned.

Albus was masterful. He didn't cry or blubber, but he didn't really look at anyone or anything either. He held Hermione's hand tightly for most of the service and his hand lingered on the coffin just a moment too long.

Afterward, despite tradition, Albus didn't attend the small brunch that Garret Olivander held at Edvard's home. Garret, as Edvard's heir was in on the subterfuge of course. He managed the entire affair by looking mysterious and nattering on about the new theories of a Muggle named Einstein.

At Malfoy manor, Helga tossed her hat to the waiting elf and declared that she needed a long bath.

But before she stepped out of the door she surprised everyone and turned back to Albus.

"Do you need anything?"

Abraxas lifted a brow and waved Helga away. "If he does, we'll get it. Don't worry."

She nodded uncertainly and then shrugged and left the room.

Tom frowned. "How did she figure out that Albus and Olivander were close?"

Abraxas shrugged and poured himself a drink. "She isn't stupid, so her picking up on the clues we left means that other people will have noticed. Edvard was not as circumspect as Albus has been. People will guess they were together. Rumors will spread."

Albus' lips quirked. "We are together."

Abraxas handed the other man a drink. "Are together. "

Tom shook his head when he was offered a drink and Hermione did as well. She needed a clear head and her body weight was not high enough to complete her duties for the day with a fuzzy head. Also, she didn't know when Gellert would hear about the funeral, but he was sure to summon her via letter as soon as he did.

She didn't want to take Tom with her.

She was almost certain he would demand to come.

Albus put his barely touched drink down and stood abruptly. "I'm going to make an appearance at Hogwarts and then get back to Edvard. He's still not recovered."

Hermione stood as well. "Do you need help?"

He shook his head. "No I'm fine. At this point the difficult part is keeping him away from his obsessive planning long enough to rest."

Abraxas toasted the other man as he took a long drink. "Godspeed then. We'll reintroduce him as a brilliant Russian general under polyjuice as soon as he is able."

"I think I will transfigure him slightly. The Olivanders have Russian relations. It won't be too hard to convince everyone that he is one of them, especially when Gellert verifies the story."

Abraxas shrugged and refilled his glass.

Hermione exchanged a look with Tom as Albus slipped out through the floo. They both knew that Helga's decision to stay and the war were taking a toll on Abraxas. He was drinking more than he should.

She slipped into his head and left the thought 'We'll discuss this later'. Tom gave her a slight nod.

Hermione squeezed Abraxas' shoulder. "I think I might be hungry. I bet the house elves have something we can nibble on. Want to raid the kitchen?"

The young blond man's face slipped into an expression of indulgent mischief. He stood, perfectly steady despite the two drinks in quick succession.

Tom caught on quickly. "And after we have a snack, we should pull out the brooms. We haven't played Quidditch together in ages."

GGGGGG

Gellert looked at the paper clippings that Jean Marie has owled that morning. The first was the obituary for Edvard Olivander, followed by a short piece on how the Auror had died 'in the course of his duties'. There was another cutout announcing the death of one former 'Captain John Smith' which explained the man reticence. No mention of Captain Smith's cause of death, and his funeral was 'private' which was obviously because the aurors had bloodied the man too badly for his remains to be seen in public. In fact, the entire article was there simply to alert whoever had sent Smith that their assassin had met a sticky end.

Shame really. Smith had been fairly useful. Occasionally.

Gellert wrote a short note thanking Bassett for brining the situation to his attention and ordering the man to find a way to spend more time in Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys were leaders in pureblood circles. If he pardoned that she-harpy Ivanova, he could probably get their support, which would make ruling Britain exponentially easier.

Task done, Gellert called for Sergei and lit a cigar. It was delicious, a big fat thing sent by some wizards in Cuba and kept in a box with special charms. He would have to make certain the secrets to making them were saved once he conquered Britain and moved toward America in a decade or so.

Sergei walked in. "My lord?"

"How is your little protégée working out for Ivanova?"

Sergei shrugged. "Well enough. She's just a child so she isn't able to ingratiate herself into any high level discussions, but she is also hears more than anyone would imagine. We were able to fend off an attack in France three days ago due to her information."

Gellert grinned. He did adore it when he was right. Sending a child as a spy was rather brilliant.

"Excellent. Keep me informed. I intend to use Ivanova as a bargaining chip. I want her captured as soon as we can arrange it. Offer you little waif something appropriate as an inducement…a pretty dress or some shiny thing."

"Perhaps an adoption my lord? She longs for her own family more than anything."

"Then hold that in reserve for something truly special. We may need to train your spy to be a pint sized assassin. No one would suspect a child, and once she is a few years older, they'd suspect a pretty maid still less, and of course she'd have a myriad of ways to distract a man." Gellert chuckled and he noticed Sergei's eyes tighten. Ha! The man was fond of his little waif?

That had possibilities.

Gellert watched as Sergei obliviously laid out plans for a few projects: the man was interested in containing the velas in France rather than trying to tame them.

Gellert let him talk. He had no interest in keeping those Harpies alive after they literally ate fifty of his best wizards…there were some species that were too dangerous to be allowed o live.

Sergei was getting soft in his old age…but he had saved Gellert's lift often enough in the early days that he was inclined to allow him to retire in peace…perhaps to a nice backwater where he could use his softer tactics to keep some beaten-down element of the populace in check.

He'd need to train a new bodyguard.

Perhaps he had finally found a new job for Lestrange.

 **TMRTMR**

That night, as Tom wrapped Hermione in his arms, he felt her sigh.

He leaned up on one arm, allowing the blanket to fall down his bare chest…there was little need for a nightshirt in the middle of summer, particularly not when you slept with a human heater like Hermione. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer, merely kissing his cheek and then along his neck, clearly trying to distract him.

It worked.

She worked her way back to his mouth, fingers tangling in his curls.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "What brought this on?"

She leaned up and softly kissed his lips. "I'll have to go back to Grindelwald soon. I want a memory to keep me warm."

His whole body stilled. "I'll be going with you. Gellert will be in a good mood from killing Olivander. He won't be unusually sadistic."

"His 'normal' setting is quite sadistic enough thank you." She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please stay here? Keep Abraxas from drinking like a fish?"

He held her closer and chuckled. "You know that isn't happening."

Her lips thinned. "It's harder to activate two portkeys at once. There would be less danger if only one of us went."

Tom smirked. "Fine. I'll give Gellert your condolences."

He gave a half-hearted slap to his chest; he caught her hand and pressed it to his heart.

He kissed her and continued, "Do you remember lecturing Albus about going in alone? I realize you were much younger in second year, but you read him the riot act."

"Albus Dumbledore is the key to the whole puzzle. If he dies, there might not be anyone who can save the world from Gellert's army…because make no mistake, it's going to keep conquering countries unless we do something more. We have to fight, we have to win, and we have to neutralize Gellert Grindelwald."

"Is that the only reason why you care for Albus? Because he's part of some larger plan you've foreseen?" His voice was steady, but there were hints of ice below his tone.

She knew what he was really asking. He called himself a fool in his own head for pushing her into a corner. He knew very well that he might not like what he found in her mind…the years before he met her had been rife with examples of that.

She chose her words carefully, making eye contact and deliberately leaving her mind wide open to him. "I adore Albus. But I know he's part of the larger battle, one that will affect the fate of the world. And I adore him because I know he would understand this and willingly give his life…either by dying for a cause, or by living for it. I hope he is going to live for it." He could feel the genuine love in her mind as she spoke. It colored her thoughts of the other man.

Tom toyed with her hair. He wanted to ask if she loved him because he was just Tom, or because she'd seen him do something in the distant future…but he just wrapped his arms around her and told her "Either you take me, or I will show up all on my own. I'm well able to make my own port key."

Hermione, perhaps sensing his mood, simply snuggled into his arms in defeat.


	65. Chapter 65

_**AN: I totally forgot that last week was Easter. This was a difficult chapter, but I think I'm fairly happy with it, which is good, because I wrote it three times.**_

 _ **I have to take a moment and thank all of you for the reviews and all the encouragement you give me. The detailed reviews that discuss the plot points are VERY helpful as a writer…you just don't get this kind of honest input on any other kind of writing.**_

 _ **I expect to update again on 4/29/2017. The next chapter is going to be pivotal so I want it to be just right.**_

 _ **In other news, I'll have another IRL book out this summer! I can't wait. I'm supposed to see new artwork for the cover pretty soon. *happy dance***_

Hermione opened her eyes to a flash of red hair that was bright enough to overcome even the dim room and the nature of her visitor. She was greeted by a familiar grin.

"Wake up!"

"Shhhh…you'll wake Tom."

"You need a cuppa Hermione. I can't wake him, but _you_ can if you keep whispering. Are you a witch or aren't you? Levitate yourself out to the sitting room so we can have a proper visit."

Hermione carefully disengaged from Tom, and for once, his eyes didn't even flutter as she slid out of the blankets.

She shut the door of the suite soundlessly and turned to the apparition of her best 'girlfriend".

"Ginny."

"In the flesh." The redhead ducked her chin and waved a careless hand. "Well, not quite in the flesh, but you know what I mean. I have a bone to pick with you!"

She blinked. It really was very early. "What?"

"Why haven't you called me before you utter cow! Harry practically gets to pop in every Sunday, and I didn't get to come before the twins. That's just shameful."

This was not the Ginny from Hogwarts, or even the young Ginny from the end of the war. This was Ginny Potter nee Weasley…chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies and the very best witch in Great Britain to split a couple of bottles of wine with.

"I've missed you too Gin."

"Of course you have." She examined her nails as if it was obvious and then looked up at Hermione. "I've missed you too."

"I suppose you are here to tell me how to keep Tom out of the fight?"

"Brightest witch of the age, my lily white arse. No Hermione. Do you for even one moment think that I of all people would be for that kind of harebrained doomed-to-failure protectionism? Me? The girl that the golden Trio left behind just so I could be tortured for a year by the Carrows? Give me a bit of credit."

Hermione sighed. Ginny had complained about that until her dying day…literally.

The other woman thumbed her nose at her friend and tried to serve herself a drink…which of course failed miserably since she was unsubstantial.

The little ginger sighed. "I can't wait to be reborn so I can have a proper drink again."

"Ah, so you are part of the rarefied group of champions too?" Hermione dimpled. "Have you been chasing Harry for eons?"

Ginny smirked. "Not me! I'm brand new, mint in the box, as far as being a champion goes. I was just a plain old soul born as Ron Weasley's little sister. Apparently you lot rubbed off on me enough so that they let me in the club."

Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't believe that for a minute. You ran roughshod over all the supposed champions for our entire lives."

She dimpled. "Yeah, the higher ups say I have great potential for management."

She turned to Hermione, suddenly serious. "Look, you know there is a time limit. I just came to warn you about pushing him away…both inside a fight and outside it. Don't lose him because you were trying too hard to protect him. You could do as much damage to the timeline as Voldemort did."

Hermione huffed, "The whole bloody lot of you can just go jump off a cliff. Why didn't one of you come back and do this job if you are so clever?"

Ginny laughed. "Ha! Like anyone else would have taken this mission! They didn't even offer it to me, something about a lack of necessary subtlety or some similar rubbish! I mean honestly…I am soooo subtle."

"Gin, you about as subtle as a rampaging hippogryph with flatulence."

"Gee Hermione, don't hold back so much, tell me how you really feel!"

Hermione took in a deep breath. "I feel like I would really really like a hug right now. I miss you so much. And I don't know what to do about Tom. I can't stand the idea of him being hurt. He wasn't supposed to be involved with this Gin. This was _never_ his fight."

Ginny gave her a little smile, the one that let her know that everything was going to be alright. "Maybe it should have been. Maybe that was what he was missing. All I know is that he is a better man today for having you in his life. And as long as you don't die and cause him to shut down and turn into some evil necromancer who will stop at nothing to drag you back across the veil…"

Hermione buried her head in her hands. "Merlin. That sounds just like him."

"Of course it does." She reached out phantom hands and cupped Hermione's face, even though neither of them could feel it. "This life might be a mission, but it is still a life."

Ginny faded away as Hermione slumped to her knees, holding her face where the other woman's ghostly hands had been.

Warm hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her up. "If you wanted a hug, all you have to do is ask."

She leaned back into Tom's strong chest, knowing he'd heard at least part of her conversation with Ginny. She was too tied to consider the implications. She turned and kissed his soft, delicious lips.

 **SSSSSS**

Sergei held the letter in his palm, his fingers strangely dry. His palms had been clammy and damp for most of the day. His very heart had trembled when his wife and children took the illegal portkeys that would jump them across Europe and into America where a great deal of gold would buy the aid of a wizard who bore Gellert Grindelwald no love. They were safe and under a powerful fidellus now.

He neatly cubed his own steak for the owl as he used dictoquils to write a dozen carefully worded invitations to his hunting lodge. The date was expected on any invitation. And exact time 20:45 was not.

No, now that there was action to be taken and his most precious people were safe, he was once again the man of action that he knew. He wrote the invitations carefully, but with no fear. Only his fellow coconspirators would understand the code in the letters.

He sent his elf for reliable owls.

He took a deep breath as he signed his name with his own hand. This was his last chance to back out. Once they were committed, nothing could stand in the way of the assassination. Grindelwald would never stop hunting their families if he survived.

He tied the missives with dry hands.

 **SSssSSss**

Gellert was planning a series of entertainments that would include the children and wives of his court. These would be no excuse for rapine and torture. This was the public, official face of the loyal subjects of Gellert Grindelwald. There would be a reporter who would gush about the beautiful ladies and lovely delicacies served. There would be games and plays. Half of each day would be spent in hearty outdoor sports, with lavish prizes for the winners.

During that festivity, Sergei's coconspirator, Herr Schmitt would set down a basket with a timed curse. The basket would detonate near Gellert, killing him and a few of his closest cohorts.

Once Grindelwald was dead, the plan was to blame the rebels for the attack and send the army to hunt them. That was where his little Sophie came in. She would report the location, the army could spend their fury, and he would take the child in as his own for her bravery.

Schmitt despised Gellert for the loss of his eldest son, and his rabid allegiance to the cause made him the obvious choice to drop the curse. Nothing would stop him from seeing Gellert Grindelwald dead. Sergei was sure of that.

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger would be out of the country, protecting her (as the presumptive heir) from any hint of scandal. She would be welcomed with open arms and Sergei would steer her toward slowing down the expansion of the country and slowly regaining control of the armies.

Once she was firmly on the throne, they could quietly continue the expansion through Brittan. It was of course, her home and she would want to acquire it.

She would (of course) marry in due time and produce an heir (whom Sergei intended to foster himself).

It was a good plan, and it accounted for every faction and factor in the court and the army.

It would be bloody, but it was the only way to remove Gellert and keep his nation intact.

The one thing it didn't account for was the capricious nature of Gellert Grindelwald himself.

 **GGGGGG**

One of the more tedious actions a ruler must participate in on occasion were the sort of entertainment that was meant to be seen by baker's wives and hedgewitches. The sort of thing that spun the story of his empire so that it could live in the hearts and minds of his people.

But that didn't mean that he would have to be bored during all the sack races, and tickle-duels.

He sent word to Hermione that she was expected, and didn't mention his delicious news to anyone. She was as slippery as an eel most of the time, but it was more than time she and he spent some quality time discussing something other than her fascinating experiments.

He couldn't wait.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom tossed his shield cloak over his shoulders as he watched Hermione fiddle with her necklace. He kissed her cheek. "You look perfect."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she tucked in a strand of her hair. "You are just saying that so we can go."

He grabbed her waist, pulling her bum into his body recklessly close and rumbled into her ear "Oh no. I mean every word."

He enjoyed the feeling of her body pressed against his own for a moment, and then released her. "But, in the spirit of not irritating insane dictators for the sake of a cheap thrill, let's try to get to this little gathering as quickly as possible."

"I'm just glad to be going to something we know is going to be sane for once, or as close to it as we're likely to get. Even Gellert won't do something horrible in front of so many innocent witnesses." She straightened her hair, added a dab of powder to her nose, and sneezed slightly. She picked up a knitted bag and rummaged through, adding a few potions. "I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

He offered her his arm and slid her cloak over her shoulders, admiring the way his snake necklace graced her neck.

She smiled up at him and he felt his heartbeat raise he looked at her.

He kissed her lips softly, holding her face in his hands. She smiled, a bit dazed by the sudden passion in his kiss. She put one small, soft hand on his cheek. "What's wrong Tom?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just a kiss for luck."

 **HJGHJG**

If Tom were three years older, she would have dueled Grindelwald just so they could stay in and she could finally consummate this thing that was between them. She took a deep breath as they floated into the perfect upper crust garden party that Gellert had orchestrated for his followers.

Now was not the time to think about ripping Tom's clothing off. She wasn't even certain she _should_ be thinking of ripping them off at all, but if she should, this definitely was not the time.

She allowed the crowd to steer them in the direction of Gellert, who was holding court on a pristine yellow and white checked blanket, white summer suit open at the collar while Lestrange practically knelt at his feet offering him strawberries.

There was something seriously wrong with that woman…and where in the name of Merlin did she hide her husband? The man must have no feeling for her at all. If he had even a glimmer of respect for her it would have pushed him to chide her about her total lack of self-restraint when it came to Gellert.

Hermione pushed those thoughts from her mind. She could not afford to be so distracted. Distraction was dangerous. It could get her killed. Worse, it could get Tom killed.

Gellert grinned at her and took Lestrange's fingers in his hand and licked the tip of the strawberry once, twice, three times before taking the fruit between his sharp, even teeth.

If she'd really been the fifteen year old she was pretending to be, the action would have been the cause of a stammer, or a blush…if she'd understood the subtext at all. She hadn't been particularly good at subtext the first half of her original life. At fifteen, she might have rolled her eyes and wondered why the man couldn't just eat his fruit like a normal person instead of slobbering all over it.

As it was, she raised a brow at his little show and turned coolly away to survey the important players on the field.

Two the major generals were playing a game of lawn darts with wands with al little crowd of underlings watching on the sidelines.

Three member of the cabinet were pretending to feed the ducks while discussing tactics in voices far too loud to be secretive. Hermione snickered as one enterprising mallard walked up and tore the bread from the courtier's hand after the man dangled it uselessly for too long.

Sergei was flitting from group to group. If Gellert hadn't been distracted by Madam LeStrange's charms and adulation, the big man might have attracted his attention already.

Hermione decided that it would be best to keep Gellert's attention away from whatever Sergei was planning.

She went and made a shallow curtsey. "My lord."

Gellert's eyes took in every detail, leaving her wishing for a very hot shower a thousand miles away from him. "My heir. So pleased you could come."

She didn't need to read his mind to understand the clumsy double meaning. "The celebration seems to be in full swing." Lestrange was giving her a nasty look. Tom took a step closer and the woman closed her eyes, fighting nausea.

Gellert grinned at the not-so-subtle reminder that Lestrange hadn't been able to best Hermione. "Tom, why don't you and Madam Lestrange take a turn around the garden. I have something to discuss with my heir." It was fairly obvious that the only one who was pleased with this idea was Gellert. Hermione's eyes didn't even flick to Tom. She knew he'd be watching for any sign that she was using the portkey. He knew she would delay until she could make eye contact as long as it didn't put her in danger.

She turned to Gellert who was still lounging in his pale suit.

"Sit on the blanket with me, my dear."

She moved just close enough to him so that it didn't look like she was keeping her distance, but far away so that he couldn't actually touch her without bending at an awkward angle. He watched her mechanisms with dancing eyes, enjoying both his power over her and her resistance.

"It's a lovely party." Her eyes flitted across the expanse of perfectly green lawn and manicured shrubbery. She caught sight of Tom to reassure herself that he seemed fine, and then turned back to Gellert.

He waved at the party indolently. "One must put a proper show on for the masses."

She smirked lightly. "I noticed some of your generals were not particularly in a party mood. How goes the conquest of France?"

"Better now that we have a spy in Ivanova's ranks."

She nodded. "Good. Ideally, I would like to invade Great Britain next year. As you know, new members of the Wizingmount will be elected. I would like to place out people in those positions so they cans way the rest of them to ratify your rule as soon as the invasion begins. It will keep the collateral damage down if the Auors and the rest of the Ministry don't fight."

"I had planned something similar."

She allowed her lips to thin. "Is that why you killed Olivander despite ordering me to take care of his relationship with Albus?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to put too much pressure on your relationship with Albus. Now we can move one of our people into the head Auror position."

She let her eyes find Tom, who was watching Lestrange retch under a rose bush. "Do you have someone in mind?"

Gellert sat up and offered her a strawberry. "Enough business. It is time to enjoy ourselves."

She took the fruit in her fingers instead of letting him feed her. (Which shouldn't surprise him.)

As her teeth sank into the strawberry, all hell broke loose.

 **SSssSSssSSssSSss**

Sergei didn't have time to question which deity he had offended when he saw Hermione walk into the garden. He simply began walking politely from one group to another, trying to call off the attempt.

He couldn't be seen doing too much.

He saw the basket that contained the curse. He tried to capture the attention of the man delivering it.

Schmitt was too focused on dropping the innocuous-looking basket and walking away.

Sergei cursed under his breath. The basket drop was his signal to leave the area. He had sixty seconds to get clear of the curse.

His feet betrayed his mind and started striding away. Loosing Hermione would be a blow, but not as large a blow as keeping Gellert in power.

45…46…47…

The Riddle boy began walking toward her. Sergei winced. He had liked the boy.

56…57…58…

He glanced back one last time. Hermione was between Gellert and the basket. He growled under his breath and pulled his wand, intending to pull her away.

The spell died on his tongue as a long knife slid between his ribs, puncturing a lung. He blinked as Herr Schmitt lowered him to the floor. The man's eyes held contempt. He must have mistaken the gesture and assumed that Sergei was trying to save Gellert. He fisted Schmitt's robes and breathed out 'The heir…can't rule without the heir…" The man's eyes widened and he turned, wand ready to presumably save the girl…

Sergei heard the curse explode. Light encased him and his body took a last, gasping breath.


	66. Chapter 66

_**AN: I was busily working on writing this when the power went out and a tornado went right by on the other side of the road. So we spent last night huddled in the bathroom while a half-mile wide column of wind took out houses, trees, and the occasional cow. Not fun. It's a weird mixture of absolute boredom and occasional moments of terror when you hear things hitting the house or feel the wind through the floorboards.**_

 _ **On the other hand, everyone I love is alive, and I'm really going to write the next storm scene I need out of the park: the whole time I sat there with my daughter and my cats in the cramped little space with my rear on cold porcelain, part of my brain was storing away every detail for story fodder. (I did that once when I was hydroplaning in the car too….I actually yelled at my own brain to stop it and pay attention to not dying because dead women don't write.)**_

 _ **Anyway, please don't kill me because this is late. Dead women don't write.**_

Tom didn't particularly enjoy the sound of retching: though to be perfectly honest the sound of Lestrage tossing up her breakfast was by far the least objectionable form of vomit. It reminded him how Hermione had sought to protect him from the woman when he was younger and less capable of protecting himself. He edged a little closer to the woman, knowing it would intensify her reaction, thinking about how trapped he had felt at her persistent unwanted attention when she was his professor.

He wrinkled his nose as her vomiting turned to dry heaves. As well-deserved as her punishment was, he didn't fancy the smell, sounds, or sight of it. He left her in the rosebushes to gather whatever little dignity she had left among this group…he'd noticed more than one gloating glance from people as she began vomiting. He memorized their faces, hoping to ask Sergei about them later.

As he made his way back to Hermione, he noticed Herr Schmitt leave a basket just north of Gellert and Hermione's blanket. At first he assumed that the man had simply forgotten his own blanket and was fetching it, but something in his walk (stiff, trying _not_ to look like he was hurrying) made Tom's footsteps quicken.

Hermione was locked in a battle of wits with Gellert, and neither of them were paying attention to anything but their discussion. Gellert trusted Sergei to keep watch and Hermione trusted that the biggest threat in the area was right in front of her.

Tom had long ago began wearing a wrist sheath much like Hermione's. His wand was in his hand, hidden in a fold of his cloak as he moved closer.

Gellert's Security was useless: they were on the periphery of the group, scanning the woods outside their little intimate circle. None of them noticed him or the dangerous stalk of his gait as he shed the veneer or civilization and made his way quickly toward the one creature he'd decided to protect.

He finally found Sergei in the crowd, but his back was to Tom. His steps slowed for a half a second and then he turned, wand clearly aiming at Hermione. Tom hadn't even raised his own wand in defense (Hermione's shield cloak would protect her if Sergei meant her harm, but he rather suspected that the man was most likely trying to protect the girl.)

But whatever spell Sergei had been contemplating was lost. In a fraction of a second, Tom saw Sergei go down; his quick eyes noticed a tell-tale splash of crimson on the other man's robes and the bright gleam of a blade.

Schmitt lowered Sergei to the ground, a few witches and wizards had noticed, but they hadn't done anything except look mildly concerned…or not. Tom noted a number of hard-faced wizards that did not seem surprised.

Tom began running toward Hermione as Schmitt lifted his wand. He managed a shield spell between them, and was turning to hex the man when a curse exploded.

Tom turned, wide-eyed, in time to see Hermione flung away from the blast with Gellert and a mad tumble of hair and limbs. Tom was on his feet, but every other witch or wizard in a twenty foot radius of the blast was down.

There were a number of empty-eyed glares from corpses that had been enjoying the garden party a moment before. There were more ripped robes, bleeding limbs, and bones at awkward angles.

Sergei was forgotten. The moaning bodies in the dust were ignored. Tom called out for Hermione as his eyes frantically searched for any sign of her.

He had dust in his eyes from the blast: his eyes were watering, but he saw the first spell that was aimed at him in time to dodge. He didn't question. He simply used a powerful slicing hex on the man's wand hand and crushed the wand as he went by with the heel of his shoe as the wizard bled and howled.

Unfortunately, the caterwauling seemed t draw the attention of his compatriots and Tom soon found himself facing the wands of eight wizards of varying ability. Tom growled as they surrounded him. They were delaying his search. She was out there…maybe hurt…maybe…

But he didn't finish that sentence, even in his head. He used the most effective, vicious curses he knew to remove the obstacles from his path. The spells his opponents used turned dark as their numbers dropped to three. He had to dodge the green light of a killing curse eight times: once by dodging behind one of their coconspirators and letting the curse hit that man instead. The other wizards inevitably fell before him as he tossed powerful curses and jinxes with no thought to the consequences.

He emerged victorious with a burn down his leg that he didn't remember getting and the knowledge that the wizard he'd ducked behind was his first kill.

Dust and hexes made it difficult to see, but he limped toward the area where he though Hermione might have been thrown.

Lestrange and three wizards crossed his path. As much as he detested her, he still stunned two of the bastards. He didn't stop to see her end the third, but he assumed she would kill him. The woman was totally unhinged.

"Hermione!" He called out to her desperately. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust…he'd need to find that curse and find a way to counter it. He wouldn't feel safe again, even when he had her, if he couldn't counter things like this. He was bloody brilliant. Magic was the one thing he was supposed to be able to control, for Merlin's sake.

"Hermione!" His voice ripped though the air, harsh and sounding little like his normal smooth tone.

A moan. A small, muffled feminine moan that he could barely hear over the witches and wizards dueling around him. He moved the body of a blue clad wizard out of the way, ignoring eyes that were frozen in surprise at how quickly death had claimed him.

He saw her hair first.

She had landed in front of Gellert, who was still unconscious. Hermione was bleeding from a gash in her scalp, but it looked shallow. She had some swelling near the gash which worried him, but he did his best with the healing spells he knew and helped her sit and quickly siphoned the blood away and healed most of the cut. Grimacing, he tore a bit of his robe off and tied it in a temporary bandage so she would lose less blood.

Lestrange fell to her knees beside them, despite the obvious nausea at being near Tom she began to weep and wail.

Hermione huffed and raised her wand with a flourish. "Do be quiet and keep guard or something equally useful. He's going to be fine."

She hit the woman with a silencing spell and started trying to get up. Tom realized what she wanted and stood, taking most of their weight on his good leg.

Hermione saw the burn, gave him a reproachful look for not mentioning that he was hurt and healed it.

Grindelwald's men quickly overpowered the remaining fighters.

Hermione shared a look with him, momentarily wondering which side to take.

He leaned very close. "The time to join them would have been before the blast. They can't win, not even if we throw our lot in with them, and there is no chance they would trust us, I disarmed too many of them and lured one of them into a killing curse."

Her eyes filled with sympathy. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

She kissed his cheek and whispered "Well, if we are going to do the thing, we should do it right."

She amplified her voice magically. "I want whoever placed that curse. And someone bring a healing draught for our lord." The witches and wizards around her scrambled to do her bidding. She looked around. "Are any of the generals dead?"

A nameless guard looked up. "I saw General Stubbs bleeding, but I don't know about the others."

She frowned. "Round them up, see to their hurts and save as many as you can. If they die and something happens to Gellert the army may well ravage the bloody countryside. We'll need to get Gellert out in front of them as soon as he is able…arrange a gathering with a few men from each platoon. I know they have portkeys. Send out the owls now, before the rumors spread. Tell them Gellert is alive and then prove it to them."

Tom sighed. Gellert's half-feral army of ruthless, battle hardened wizards was a problem. They were armed, trained, and quite addicted to the thrill of conquering countries. Any half-decent leader could step into Gellert's shoes and make the world quake as long as they had the army on their side.

Hermione limped around, barking orders, still leaning on Tom…more for closeness than because she was actually hurt. He knew she wanted to appear more vulnerable than she actually was, in case there were more assassins. If one could not appear invulnerable, being underestimated was a good second choice as far as survival went.

He allowed it for nearly twenty minutes before he took one of the healing potions that were going around, drank half of it himself and forced the other half down her throat.

She rolled her eyes and continued playing her part until Gellert regained consciousness.

The man pulled Lestrange's silently weeping form away from him and sat up, looking woozy. A healer offered him another potion, which he tested and then drank in a single gulp.

"I want the head of whoever set that spell."

Herr Schmitt was a bloody, near-unconscious mess when two of Gellert's guards brought him up, intending to put him before their leader.

Tom stepped forward. "My lord, I can read his thoughts."

Hermione nodded. "Tom is a natural. I trust him to ferret out every secret of this conspiracy. And you must speak to the army shortly my lord. You should save your strength."

Gellert looked rebellious but eventually acquiesced. "We'll need to put a plan in place to keep them from going off the rails every time they think something has happened to me. I won't have them destroying the country if someone does manage to assassinate me. You'll need them to avenge me, my heir." He gave Hermione a flirtatious look that made Tom's stomach turn.

Tom leaned down at the man who had pointed his wand at Hermione less than an hour before. He looked up from his crouch, addressing the guards. "Did Sergei survive?"

They shook their heads angrily.

Tom looked at the broken, bloody man.

"This is going to hurt then."

 **TMRTMRTMR**

That night, once again 'home' at Malfoy manor, Tom tried to control his reaction as Hermione soothed him with soft strokes along his back.

They had faced the horror of their friends that a simple party had turned into an assassination attempt and a pitched battle. They were healed, clean, and dry…mostly. Hermione's hair was still damp. He could smell the comforting scent of her soap as she petted his skin.

He had caused the death of another man. Two if you counted Schmitt, though he didn't think there was anything he could have said in the man's defence to keep Gellert from killing him. He'd told Gellert that the death of his son had left him mad, perhaps the one reason that would buy him the mercy of a quick death.

Tom mourned him and the others that had died. He might as well have killed the ones he stunned. Most of them were going to face a firing squad of wizards in front of the army the next day since many of them were solders. Men he might have been allies with if their true ideas had been examined.

Not only that, he'd almost lost Hermione.

He couldn't remember being so close to crying in his entire life. He didn't of course, but there was a hard ache in his chest that felt like he'd tried to swallow a kneezel whole.

He kept running his fingers over her thigh. It wasn't remotely sexual. He simply needed the feel of her skin on his own.

She leaned over and placed warm lips on the skin of his shoulder and brought a soft blanket over his body. She summoned a potion. "Take this. You still seem a little shocky."

He turned over. "I don't need anything, just you."

She smiled but she held out the calming draught anyway. "Take it for me."

"If I do, will you sleep without your nightgown?" She looked thoughtful for half a moment, and even through the shock he was suddenly not quite as indifferent to his hand on her thigh. He was just trying to get out of taking the potion. He never thought she'd actually consider it!

She shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. We still have months before we are seventeen."

He pulled her under him and gave her his best charming smile. "I don't know why you feel the need to wait. Is it….do you want me to marry you first?" He felt the air going out of his lungs as he looked into her eyes.

She looked shocked. "I hadn't…hadn't…well…that wasn't the reason. I just want you to be of legal age."

"And why does that matter?"

She looked up at him with those fathomless brown eyes and he knew there were secrets in her mind that he'd never touched, no matter how many times he'd slipped into her mind. He felt himself harden as his body pressed against her.

"It matters to me." She begged him with those eyes to trust her, begged him not to ask the questions that were on the tip of his tongue.

He kissed her, harder than he'd intended. "You know that I want to know."

She nodded. "I do. I'm afraid to tell you everything, but if anyone deserves to know, it is you. But I need you to wait."

He kissed a hot line from her neck to the line of her nightgown, nuzzling the edge of the lace, gaining centimeters of skin that were previously covered.

"What am I waiting for?"

She ran fingers over his cheek. "I'm afraid to tell you."

"Are you afraid of me?" He carefully kept his voice from shaking.

"Never. No, I'm afraid that if I tell you what I know that you are going either think I'm mad or you will have a breakdown…and we can't afford that until after the war is over."

Tom let his breath out. "I can't imagine anything that would make me breakdown. And I'd never think you are anything except wonderful."

"You should hear what I have to tell you before you say things like that."

"Well since you won't tell me and I refuse to break into your mind the way I did to the poor schmuck today…"

"You didn't tell Gellert the truth about Sergei."

"No. I think he was part of the conspiracy. Schmitt's mind was pretty clear on that fact. It does no good to tell anyone that he was. It puts his family in danger."

"I'm fairly certain that he sent them away if he was part of the assassination attempt. He was a careful man."

"We'll say he probably knew that something was brewing and sending them away was his way of protecting them from becoming leverage…that way the traitors couldn't threaten them to get to Gellert."

She snorted. "He's egotistical enough to believe that."

"Exactly." He wrapped her in his arms, enjoying the quiet. The calming potion was on the bedside table. Her eyes kept flicking to it.

"Tell me something."

Her eyes darkened. "I will if I can."

"Will what you have to say change anything…between us, I mean?"

She sighed. "It might change how you see me. It might change it a lot."

"But not how you feel about me?"

"Never."

He kissed her lips for nearly twenty minutes. "Well if that's the case I don't see why you can't sleep without the nightgown."

She smacked his chest and his lower anatomy cursed him…but as he snuggled down into the blankets and the softly scented witch beside him, he couldn't imagine a better life than to wake beside her every day, no matter what secrets she kept locked inside her head.


	67. Chapter 67

_**AN: I am an Auntie! (Again!) I think probably for the last time actually. My new nephew was born a little early so it was a bit of a busy weekend, but I'm finally sitting down to get something for Champion. This week is going to be a little short because my new little family member came into the world Thursday morning, and he's been very instant on having my attention (Or I elbowed everyone else out of the way to get to the baby…one or the other).**_

 _ **As always, all mistakes are my own. My beta, QueenVulca, is still waiting for me to send the first chapters to her to edit. (I'm still fiddling with the first two, trying to get them exactly right).**_

Lucius gurgled happily as Abraxas bounced him on his lap. Watching the child's face erupt in joy never got old, and Abraxas found himself dominating the child's time quite as much as his mother and his wife did. He'd even changed a nappy a time or two to avoid handing the boy off to anyone else.

He was totally besotted for the first time in his life. His son bewitched him completely. How could someone so small command such a large piece of his heart, simply by existing?

Helga watched his antics indulgently as she tatted lace from a deep chair by the hearth. Even in summer she requested a fire because she couldn't seem to get warm after the birth of their son and the subsequent curse.

In a corner, Helena was writing letters on a neat little desk.

They were quite the picture of domestic felicity.

Well, they were until one realized that Helga was tatting lace to add to a rather naughty nighty she intended to show to her lover in the next week. That his mother was writing letters to drum up support for a rebellion…and that he was waiting for two spies while he bounced his son on his lap.

The fire sprang to life and Helga backed away with practiced ease, narrowly keeping her tatting from being scorched.

Abraxas handed Lucius over to his mother as he ostensibly 'helped' Hermione out of the fireplace (while in reality examining both she and Tom for signs of damage.)

He let out a breath as he realized that they seemed unhurt, and he retrieved his son before the child could charm his mother away from her writing.

Helga looked at him with sly interest but hid the look when she saw that he'd noted it, bending her head over her lace with mock concentration.

His mother cleared her throat. "How was your trip children?"

Tom smiled, all easy charm. "Excellent, thank you ma'am. We managed to find the ingredients we were looking for." He held up a bag that rattled slightly. Abraxas and Helena knew it was full of stones rather than ingredients, but this show was for Helga.

Abraxas huffed (for Helga's benefit). "I wish you would have simply put them on my account at the apothecary."

Hermione shook her head. "You know that nargle eggs are difficult to find this time of year and the ones at the apothecary are never fresh."

Tom put a hand on Hermione's back. "Yes, and speaking of that…"

Abraxas nodded and handed off the baby to his wife, who abandoned her lace with no regret.

"Let's add them to the potion then."

 **TMRTMR**

The 'potion' and its ingredients were completely fictional. Oh they did have a cauldron of colored water in Abraxas' personal potions lab, just in case Helga ever came in, but the woman was completely uninterested in potions, which was why it was chosen as a cover.

Hermione had innumerate totally imaginary ingredients as a limitless reason to explain their extended absences as Gellert demanded more and more of their time as the summer progressed.

Abraxas led them into a comfortable office off of his potions room. Many Malfoys had employed their own potions makers in the past, and the office was more than a courtesy when they had to account for ingredients and other costs.

Abraxas took the seat behind the desk and Hermione moved took the chair that put her back directly to the door, knowing he preferred to have at least one eye on the exit. He ran his fingers along her skin in thanks and she gave him a small smile.

"It's bad." Hermione knew that Abraxas wanted to know about the repercussions of the bomb and she didn't waste time with social niceties. Abraxas was now their official contact since Albus was spending most of his summer helping Edvard recover.

She pulled her shield cloak tighter around her and Tom conceded that it probably wasn't the dungeon air that was chilling her.

He caught her hand and continued the report so she wouldn't have to. "Gellert killed most of the conspirators, and a good portion of their families."

"He's convinced they were being bankrolled by your grandmother, even though they were probably six or seven of the richest members of his court and the attempt itself owed more to daring and a clever bit of spellwork than it did to any financing."

Tom sighed. "Sergei had a spy in your grandmother's camp. We'll need to find and eliminate her. She's a child from what he says." Tom closed his eyes, hating how cold it sounded. "Eliminate" didn't necessarily mean death in this instance, but it didn't necessarily mean life either.

Abraxas grinned at them unexpectedly. "Little Sophie switched sides. If one of you could arrange to be her contact, it would make thing easier."

Tom felt the weight lift off him. "That's excellent news." He'd hated the idea that a child would be used like that in the first place, much less brainwashed to the point where she would support Gellert. Then again, knowing what they did about Sergei, there was every chance that his heart hadn't been in it when he was doing the brainwashing.

Hermione stroked his hand under the desk and continued the narrative. "Gellert is very interested in the shield cloaks of course now that it proved its usefulness by saving his life…not to mention my own." She shot a warm look at Tom and he felt his cheeks warm slightly in response. The cloaks had been magnificent during the blast. The curse had hit Hermione at full power (which had unfortunately deflected the blast from Gellert). They'd been knocked nearly forty feet away from the force, but with modern wizarding medicine they'd recovered in hours.

Abraxas was making notes on a small pad. "I'll let my grandmother know that Gellert is out for her blood in particular on this one…though to be perfectly honest, that's not much of a change."

Hermione giggled. "He calls her the She-Bear."

Abraxas snickered. "She's almost as cuddly as one."

Tom smirked. "It's a good thing she's such a tough old bear. Her leadership of the resistance is the only thing that has held him back. They've sapped a huge amount of resources he would have otherwise used to finish off France and move on to England."

Hermione nodded. "There are still pockets of resistance in France, but they are isolated and he's cut off their supply lines. Unless we can find a way to resupply them, he'll have every obstacle in his path cleared before the end of the summer. "

Abraxas scrawled another note. "I'll see what I can do. Any idea of where he intends to strike first here in England?"

Hermione shrugged. "If it were me? I'd take London with a small, highly trained force. You'd take out the government and most of the communications with it. Then you could isolate and pick off the old families in the countryside one by one. It would take a long time, because we are built for hiding, but no one has wards set up to resist an army. Most witches and wizards can't even set wards like that."

"Hogwarts has them."

"And the castle is the second place I would hit. It's slightly less valuable than the Ministry and a great deal less vulnerable. I might pick off Diagon Alley on the way to the castle."

Tom looked at the sweet girl at his side and narrowed his eyes. This wasn't the product of a vision. She was just calmly planning what she would do if, at any point, she wanted to take over the country.

He had to admit, he found her breakdown of the weaknesses in their society a tiny bit arousing.

 **HJGHJG**

She was weary. So completely weary of playing the role of spy for a megalomaniac. Once again, she admired Severus Snape for the tightrope he'd walked during most of her life.

Gellert had killed dozens, right there in front of her, and there was nothing at all she could do to save them….or rather, nothing she _would_ do. She might have grabbed one or two and portkeyed out. It was tempting when he executed the young wife of one of the conspirators. The girl was only a few years older than Hermione herself.

In the end, she'd hesitated too long and the moment passed. The girl was dead and the next prisoner, and old man, had cursed Gellert and everyone in the audience with enough fever to convince her that she couldn't get him to safety even if she had risked everything to do so…

And if she'd done something so rash and Gryffindor, Tom would have been in more danger, trying to keep up with her portkey.

And they would lose their edge against Gellert as he attacked England.

She and Tom were hailed as heroes in Gellert's court after the curse. Tom for actually fighting the rebels, and her for putting a plan in place that would soothe the army.

The deaths that she'd seen haunted her though, even as part of her made her report, joked with Tom and Abraxas, and made their way to their rooms. They dressed for dinner, though Hermione honestly would have preferred a little soup and the comfort of a long bath. But since Helga had no knowledge of their activities…

Hagrid greeted them at dinner with tales of his latest project…trying to lure the Thestrals that lived on the grounds into eating from the palm of his hand. He proudly reported that he'd made good progress. "They still seem a'mite skittish…"

Helga muttered into her soup, "I can't imagine why…"

Helena and Abraxas gave the girl quelling looks, while Hagrid talked on, oblivious to her comment. Tom encouraged him until the main course came out and then smoothly turned the subject to Minerva.

"She's written me twice this summer so far." The large boy beamed and Hermione smiled, even if she was tired.

Helga cut a delicate bite of a piece of beef that was so rare it was still bleeding in places. "I'm giving a little garden party next week, so no one make any plans." He eyes flitted to her 'guests'. "We'll need to get all of you fitted for a proper garden party. No dark cloaks and heavy jewelry, however attached to them you might be." Her eyes flitted to Hermione's cloak and her necklace. Tom's mouth thinned. He was not a fan of her leaving her rooms without protections.

Helga was still blathering about the food and the guest list when something caught Hermione's attention.

"I'm so sorry Helga…did you say Jean Marie was back from France?"

The woman nearly purred. "Oh yes. It was so brave of him, to risk going there during a war of all things. But he's safe and back."

One part of Hermione's mind wondered at the ease she allowed him near her lover (who had been mortally offended when Helga had spent several passion-filled nights with Jean Marie and his hired escort…a woman that Hermione had sent off to Canada to raise chickens.)

Another part of her mind calculated the risk of having Gellert's pet as opposed to the risk of deliberately finding a reason to get him banned.

Tom caught her eye and Abraxas nodded across the table.

It was time to do something about Captain John Smith.

 **AMAMAM**

The Malfoy dungeons were some of the finest dungeons in all of the country. The first level were used for show, clean cells where important people could stay behind bars, but without the smell or sound of torture that might be going on in the lower rooms. The second level was filled with large dungeons, meant for groups. They had originally been for mobs of villagers waiting to be obliviated.

Each level had layers of shields, wards, and silencing spells. Each could only be opened to someone keyed to the wards and only the head of the Malfoy family could key someone.

The last level was half torture chambers, half damp cells, and this was where Captain John Smith had spent most of the last month.

Abraxas led the way. The man's face gave nothing away as he faced them stoically. If he was surprised to see Hermione there, there was only a tiny flick of his eyes to indicate it. It might have been nothing but the dancing shadows in the otherwise dark cell.

Tom stepped forward first, lifting Smith and binding him neatly before approaching.

Tom caressed the man's cheek as he began plundering his memories. Abraxas was certain that Smith was holding back, even under the worst that Abraxas was willing to do to get information.

Less than ten minutes later the man was drooling and looking into space.

Tom wiped his brow. "He was an accomplished occlumens. He hated Gellert, but he hated the Ministry more, and he was willing to do anything….anything to remove them from power. He didn't care how many people died or how many were abused if it accomplished his goals."

Tom wiped his hands on the cloth, and Abraxas had the distinct impression he was trying to wipe off the feel of the man's mind.

Hermione stepped forward. "He doesn't deserve mercy, but I propose we permanently transfigure his face, block his magic, and send him somewhere far away with a new memory."

Tom nodded wearily. "I admit, he deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison, but we don't have one handy, and the alternative is just killing him outright.

Abraxas put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I wouldn't ask that of you, and I would rather not do it myself."

Hermione stepped forward and raised her wand, but Abraxas took her wrist gently in his hands. "Not tonight. You are weary. I can see it in you. Mind magic is always delicate work. Rest for a day or two and then we will send this odious little man to his fate."

She gave him a little half-smile. "I plan to make him a fairly decent bloke when I remake his personality. Let him go somewhere in the Muggle world and save kittens in some sleepy town as the head of the volunteer fire department."

Abraxas led her out, chuckling at the plans she had for the man.

 **CJSCJSCJS**

Smith looked up as the door closed on his cell.

The boy had raped his mind, leaving only a few inconsequential corners alone. Enough so that he wasn't a drooling idiot. Enough so that he had a small chance at escape.

Grindelwald was a toad, but he was the weapon that Smith intended to use to bring down his enemies in the British government.

He wouldn't let a gaggle of children take down the man without a fight.

 **JMBJMB**

Jean Marie stood nude in his closet as he scanned his supply of summer robes and found exactly the right set for Helga's little garden party.

The mirror alerted him that Gellert was calling, and he scrambled to his knees.

The other man looked amused at Jean Marie's position, but he didn't comment.

"I have a task for you Jean Marie. My heir is spending far too much time with her young body guard. Keep her in your sights as much as you can. Use your connection with Helga Malfoy….do… _whatever_ is necessary to keep her in your good graces and retain access to my heir for this summer." Gellert's knowing look finally made Basset blush.

"As you say My lord."

The mirror went blank and Jean Marie pulled out an attractive set of everyday robes. He was going to be spending more time at Malfoy Manor.


	68. Chapter 68

_**AN: Happy Mother's Day! I hope everyone had a good one, and that no one was up too late waiting for this. It's short, but it was, once again, a very busy weekend (as weekends toward the end of school tend to be). I will try to write a nice long chapter next week to make up for it.**_

Helga Malfoy had betrayed him. She'd joined the ranks of those who adored their own spawn.

Jean Marie despised infants. He was appalled by the way they looked like toothless old men. He cringed at their unregulated bodily functions. He paled when he considered the method of their delivery. But most of all, he loathed the way the little beasts smelled. One part Jumblemyer's baby powder, the magical world's most popular brand of baby products, one part sour milk from reckless overfilling by eager mothers, and at least one part dirty diaper which was really a euphemism for stale urine and baby shit, which was at least twice as offensive the adult wizarding version, though admittedly less offensive that the muggle, which was never properly vanished and had to be evacuated through some convoluted water mechanism where all that filth actually ran in pipes under the streets.

Infants should be cared for by elves until they were old enough for boarding school, where someone with the proper credentials could mold the little animals into something capable of having a conversation over hundred year old brandy or a glass of fine port.

Sadly, in order to retain his standing in Helga Malfoy's eyes (and thus his standing invitation to Malfoy Manor) Jean Marie had to appear to at least tolerate the mewling, puking infant that was constantly at Helga's breast.

He did admit, during times when he caught a glimpse of a creamy curve or even the outline of a taunt nipple, that the display itself was considerably less offensive than the reason for it...namely, feeding the demanding little wizard who was suddenly the center of the woman's world.

She was much more amusing and attractive when she was simply pregnant.

The child wailed again and she patted his diaper-clad behind until gas escaped...it didn't really matter from which orifice.

He pasted a doting-uncle look on his face cringed mentally as she stood, cradling the child. "I'm so sorry Jean Marie. He has a touch of colic. We can reschedule if you'd rather."

He lied outrageously. "No, of course not! I would not give up these precious moments with you and your son for the world!" Well, perhaps that wasn't a lie, per se. He wouldn't give up his time with her, because if he did, his lord would perpetuate unspeakable acts on his poor body, and not in a fun way.

Still, he was relieved when the child finally dropped off to sleep.

Helga was watching the boy with a besotted expression that irritated Jean Marie for reasons he couldn't really put into words. He generally liked Helga...much more than he had when he'd met her. She was deliciously naive, but with the right prodding, she would have had the right personality to do well in Gellert's court. And he could see himself having the kind of relationship with her that Malfoy had arranged. He generally preferred men, she mostly preferred women...he liked to watch, and when she was pregnant, he'd actually found her quite attractive. He found himself adjusting the way he sat as he considered the lush curves she still had from the recent pregnancy.

He decided that she'd made him uncomfortable, he should return the favor. "You know, it seems like a bit of an imposition for me to be here when you feed the babe."

She laughed lightly, careful not to wake the child on her lap. "Honestly, he eats constantly. If you didn't come during feeding time, you'd never see me at all!"

He gave her a very Gaelic shrug, a move that he could have patented. "Well, then if you don't mind, there is no reason to be so...reticent when you feed him."

She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. "I mean, I would like to watch." He gave her his wickedest look and she blushed.

"I'm...not sure if that's a good idea..."

He raised a brow. "Oh come now." His voice dropped to a seductive purr. "You know that you enjoy it." He remembered their trysts with his former paid escort...a woman he now suspected that young Hermione had eliminated in retribution for her kidnapping.

Helga let out a shuddering sigh. "My lover doesn't want to share."

He shrugged again. "I was not asking to share, not exactly. Just a bit of a wicked game to ease your ennui as you attend your duties." He raised his hands high to show that he didn't have a wand, a playful motion designed to lower her inhibitions. He didn't care if he didn't touch. The idea of her primly exposing her breasts to him in the sitting room as she fed her infant was suddenly incredibly arousing.

Still, it would never do to tip his hand. He poured both of them a cup of tea, since her hands were occupied. He added just enough sugar and milk to her cup and brought it to her lips, caressing her bottom lip with the smooth pad of his thumb as he tipped the cup enough for a sip, no more. Then he made his way back to his seat with a flourish.

The heat in her eyes confirmed, it was only a matter of time before his visits became more interesting.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom glared at Captain Smith. He looked harmless enough, with a bit of drool on his chin from the invasion of his mind nearly a week before. He and Hermione had been called back for another dog and pony show with Gellert...showing Hermione off to the troops and discussing the progress of the option that was supposed to make Gellert live forever. The assassination attempt had lit a fire under him in regard to his life and he was both pressing Hermione tirelessly on the issue and constantly interrupting her work because he was bored without Sergei to keep him entertained.

Tom and Hermione had cobbled together a 'test' batch of the base potion for the faux philosopher's stone, and Gellert was running tests. Hermione was working on the next phase, sure that as soon as the dictator verified the current step he would be pressing for the next.

Helga was busy with Jean Marie so he, Hermione and Abraxas had finally made time to finish the business with John Smith.

He bound the man tightly and only then allowed Hermione to move a bit closer so she could alter the man's memory. He was better than her at ferreting out the secrets in a mind, but she could make a man think that white was black and black was white.

She began the delicate, deliberate manipulation of his mind, reworking his like and prejudices, erasing first surface memories and then, just when she was frowning slightly, beginning to go deeper…

Smith managed to wandlessly remove the binding, duck Abraxas' spell, and wrap his hands around Hermione's throat.

"Put your wands down boys. If I break her neck, she'll be dead long before…ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The slim viper necklace at Hermione's throat disengaged as the man struggled to get away from the searing pain of the venom that Tom had hidden in its fangs.

He screamed and kept screaming as Tom ignored him thrashing on the ground to frantically weave healing spells around Hermione, though rationally he knew that she was fine. The necklace hadn't been made to wait until after someone killed her…all it needed to sense was intent and it would strike.

He was going to ask the basilisk, Little Mari for some of her venom so he could refill it.

No one tried to save John Smith. Not that even a bezor would have with the quick acting venom injected into his neck, but Tom had the distinct impression that Abraxas was quite willing to watch his last rattling breath.

Tom turned to Hermione who was watching the man's last gasp. His eyes met hers and she shrugged. "We offered him life. He chose to keep playing the game." There was no regret in her voice.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas transfigured the body into a pile of carrot shavings and dumped them in the compost heap. The elves didn't comment one way or another, as generations of them had seen various patriarchs occasionally dump various vegetable peelings. There were always those who violently opposed their family and the patriarch, however young, was responsible for removing those who would harm the family.

He returned to find Tom and Hermione chatting amiably with a very guilty-looking Helga and a smug Jean Marie Bassett. He rolled his eyes and made a mental note to have Tom dip into his wife's mind and find out what that look was about. He didn't care if she turned the pretty boy into her lover, except that he was a known spy for Gellert Grindelwald and a security risk…

Keeping that in mind, he turned on the Malfoy charm and was frightfully good company until after dinner, when, with many protestations (and no small amount of confusion from Hagrid) the greater part of the company wished him a gracious good night.

Helga was blind enough that she didn't notice, but Helena cornered them all in Abraxas' stuty after Helga 'retired' for the evening after the floo in her room chimed, announcing the arrival of her long-time lover.

Tom snorted as Abraxas caught his eye. "Yes, we'll need to find a way to track Helga's floo use so she can't sneak Jean Marie in."

Helena rolled her eyes. "The things you two children know about should be illegal at your ages." She nodded to Hermione and Tom. Tom just grinned at her, with hint of something dark around the edges. Hermione chimed in "Are we talking about the hows and whys of sex or are we discussing torture and death, because I think the later actually is illegal."

Helena laughed, delighted by the repartee. "You children were a bit too welcoming of Jean Marie today."

Abraxas shrugged, determined not to include his mother in the death of the prisoner. "We found a new place for Captain Smith, but we barely got him out of the Manor in time for tea."

She narrowed her eyes slightly at his vague reassurance, but Tom stepped in smoothly. "Have you spoken with Madam Ivanova?"

Helena shook her head and summoned the tea pot and a fresh cup.

"She's fought off three rather brutal attacks on villages with suspected sympathizers. She had to relocate the entire population of one of them."

Hermione frowned. "Surely all of them can't be rebel sympathizers."

Helena smiled like a shark at a floating butcher shop. "They are now."

Abraxas sighed. "You'd think that the little bastard would have made enough enemies so that we could topple him by this time."

Hermione sighed. "One would think…but remember, most of the people who hate him don't have the means to fight. They are poor, starving, and half of them don't have wands anymore. Others have families that Gellert won't hesitate to kill if they step a toe out of line." She summoned her own cup of tea. "I wish I could tell you that this war was at an end, but we aren't ready to topple him yet."

Tom covered Hermione's hand with his own. "It won't be too long."

Abraxas hoped to Merlin Tom was right.


	69. Chapter 69

_**AN: I hope everyone is having a lovely Sunday. I know that some readers have mentioned that the war seems interminable… I hope you can see the pieces being moved into position for the final movement of the war. It's not going as quickly as I originally envisioned, but then, I only planned for this story to be 100,000 words and we're just about double that. I can tell you that the war will end and when it does we'll be very near the end of this fic. Have a great week, and I'll try to update again next Sunday (Monday at the latest, I have a graduation to attend and I have Memorial Day off).**_

Hermione frowned slightly and half-heartedly tried to shake her hair into a better position as she stirred the cauldron steadily…three deep clockwise and one shallow counter-clockwise.

Tom walked into the lab and twisted his wand in a spell he'd picked up from Helena Malfoy. Hermione's hair swept away from her sticky, sweaty neck and rolled into a neat braided crown around her head.

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled her thanks, but her focus never left the potion in front of her.

Tom didn't speak until the bubbling increased by half and the liquid turned a healthy burnt orange color and smelled strongly of sassafras.

Hermione pulled the cauldron off the heat and put it on a cooling rack. She cast a cooling charm on herself as soon as she was done. "There! Step seventy-one complete. Just three thousand to go."

Tom smirked as she cast a freshening charm over herself.

"It looks exactly how Perenelle's letter said it should." The Flamels might have removed their brilliant minds to America, but they were still sending letters once a month…securely encrypted of course.

Tom wrapped a long arm around her as she tidied the work area and cast protection spells to keep any cross contamination out of her cauldron.

"I came down to fetch you because Albus is here…with a guest." His smirk told Hermione all she needed to know about the guest in question.

Albus had been quietly introducing Edvard Ollivander's 'cousin' from the continent around with the help of young Garret Olivander. It seemed it was finally time for him to pay his respects to the Malfoy family…not that they had been out of touch with Albus or Edvard, but Albus had been very much preoccupied with Edvard's health since the man had been attacked by the same John Smith that had died at the fangs of Hermione's protective necklace mere days before.

"I assume that Jean Marie is stuck to Helga's side like a particularly unpleasant burr?"

Tom nodded. "It would be far easier to plan an insurrection if we didn't have to work around Malfoy's wife being both clueless and potentially traitorous."

Tom put a hand on the small of Hermione's back and let her out of the permanently silenced walls of the potions room. He carefully cast a charm he'd been developing.

Hermione smiled proudly; quite able to catch the gist of the spell just by watching him cast it non-verbally.

She raised a brow. "New spell?"

Tom shrugged as if it hadn't taken him weeks to get the little charm to work. "The muffling spell you taught me is fine in a crowded room, but we are in too many situations where we need to speak and we don't need to be overheard, but we don't need to give other's a clue of what we're doing. Slipping onto each other's minds is fine for certain situations, but it's hard to do that and chit chat. This spell masks whatever we're really saying with pre-recorded witty repartee that we've actually said…conversations we've had in the past, debates about theory…that kind of thing. Ones that can't easily offend anyone and don't seem out of the ordinary."

"What will we do when someone butts into the conversation and we don't know what they are talking about?"

Tom smirked. "Act insulted and change the subject."

She leaned in a kidded his cheek. "It's brilliant, but you knew that."

"It is always nice to hear it." He smiled, and it wasn't the near-manic grin that he'd always felt stretching his face when he was particularly proud of a clever bit of magic…this was something softer.

He and Hermione made their leisurely way down the hall. "You won't believe how little Edvard looks like himself. He has the white-blond hair that you see on so many Olivanders still, but he also has a goatee and a diamond in his ear that makes him look like some kind of Viking pirate."

Hermione giggled, and with a wave of her hand, she wandlessly changed her curly mahogany hair into a platinum blond sheet of silk. He let the silky lock slip though his fingers and made a face. "Change It back, will you? It just looks so wrong to have you look like Malfoy's half-sister."

She gave him a mischievous grin and her hair changed color and curled violently as if rejecting the entire idea of being blond and straight.

He pulled her into an alcove and one slightly drunk Malfoy from Merlin knew how many generations back chortled drunkenly as Tom snogged the laughter away from her lips.

They were both breathless when he backed away, unsure of his self-control.

Hermione used a little wave of her wand and fixed her hair (which he'd mussed terribly once it was back to its natural state). Tom didn't do anything for his own appearance until she started toward him with her wand. Then he waved his wand and his curls fell into their normal flawless perfection.

She grinned and kissed his swollen lips once more. "Prat. It's a bit sad that my boyfriend is so much prettier than I am."

He offered her his arm. "It's a good thing you are such a scary little witch then. You can protect me from my throngs of adoring fans."

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "Is Edvard's disguise really good enough to fool Helga and Jean Marie?"

Tom nodded. "Albus is our transfiguration professor. He might not be Hermione Granger, but he's quite competent."

She nodded. "He's still going to move like himself though."

"And speak like himself as well. But I think he's been working on that. He was entertaining Helga when I left."

Hermione looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Edvard Olivander was speaking. To a confirmed flibbertigibbet like Helga, and _entertaining_ her?"

"Jean Marie looked positively green with jealousy…whether it was because of the handsome man speaking to Helga or because of Helga herself was entirely debatable."

Hermione was laughing as Tom opened the door and canceled his spell. Edvard was seated on the couch, cup of tea in one hand, and his other was making broad gestures as he told the story of his former life as a gentleman farmer (including a rather interesting tale about a dyspeptic chicken.)

Hermione caught his eye, and Tom barely kept himself from breaking down in laughter.

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert watched General Vladimir fidget as he reported another unsuccessful attack on the rebels in France.

He let the man blather on for some time before he waved his hand to make the noise stop. It worked like magic. The old general stopped mid-word.

Lestrange smirked from a cushion beside his chair. Sergei had always stood on his left side, but Lestrange preferred to be to his front on the right. It was new, and therefore slightly annoying, since she blocked his line of sight constantly. Which was why he'd conjured a pillow for her to sit on…like someone's pampered dog. It was shocking how well she took to the position.

"I believe we have wasted quite enough time on the rebels for one day. How are the preparations for England? I want to invade once the brats leave Hogwarts. I'm certain Hermione can find an excuse to return to the castle and let our men through. Better to do it will less collateral damage since the population isn't properly prepared for us."

"Our agents have worked their way into the Ministry and soon we'll have the editor imperioused at the newspaper."

"And my troops? Are they ready to march through England, destroying all who oppose our glorious empire?"

"Of course my lord. The regular troops have been chasing rebels in France, the 'volunteers' who must serve because your grain rations keep them from starving will fight whenever we demand it. Most of they are only good for cannon fodder, but the spell will force them to fight the way we intend, even if normally they barely know one end of the wand from the other."

Gellert nodded. "Excellent. Make certain that provisions are in place. The muggles in England haven't recovered from that war they've just finished. It may be difficult to feed our army off the land until we get the governments up and running."

"Governments, my lord?"

"I intend to take over the muggle government as well, once we have the magical government in place. It should simply be a matter of a few well-aimed spells. Essentially, we will have the wealth of two nations to feed the next stage of conquest."

Vladimir looked incredibly curious, but the man was wise enough to keep his tongue still. Which was good. Gellert was running out of competent generals and they didn't work very well when you ripped their tongues out.

Vladimir cleared his throat and bobbed a bow. "I will arrange for more food to be held in reserve to feed the troops my lord. If you will excuse me?"

Gellert nodded and waved the man out of his receiving room. It was annoying to have to meet his 'closest' advisor under such pomp and circumstance, but he didn't trust Vladimir enough to have him in his study. Increasingly, he found that he didn't want much of anyone in his private quarters…he'd even taken to cleaning them himself so that the household staff wouldn't enter them.

Lestrange was preening like the pretty little toy she was. Oh she was vicious enough. No doubt of that. But her true worth was in the fact that she would do anything for him… _anything_.

And she was one of the few people he trusted enough to have in his rooms.

He twisted his fingers in her dark locks and she responded with a startled yelp. He grinned and transported them directly to his bed.

 **ADADADAD**

Albus was running on fumes. Taking Edvard around to reintroduce him to the purebloods after he faked his death and returned as his own provincial cousin was exhausting.

The Malfoys should have been a simpler proposition, but Helga, Abraxas' wife was something of an issue. He didn't regret bringing Hermione and Tom to save the girl, but he dearly wished that Abraxas had allowed Tom to remove Jean Marie Bassett from the woman's mind so she wouldn't be in league with one of Gellert's spies.

Then again, Hermione had made a good point when she and Tom pointed out that if you knew who the spies were you could more easily control the information that your enemy was party to.

He supposed keeping up pretences was a small price to pay to have one of Gellert's spies so readily available. This would be the real test for Edvard. If he could convince Jean Marie that he was another person, then he would be safe enough. There was no reason why anyone would connect the gregarious provincial Renee' Olivander with the dead (admittedly somewhat morose and terse) Edvard.

At the moment, Jean Marie looked positively green with jealousy about the attention Helga was getting from Renee'. Albus couldn't see the appeal himself, but the men vied for her smiles and laughter until it was time for him to take the guest home.

"I hope I will be seeing you soon." Renee / Edvard kissed Helga's hand for just a half-second longer than propriety allowed. Jean Marie's jaw was clinched tight.

Albus bade his friends a quieter farewell, knowing that they would join him at Hogwarts once Jean Marie left and Helga retired for the evening.

"Was it really necessary to do that?"

Edvard grinned from under his goatee. "Do what? I was simply following your orders Albus. If you recall, you told me to act like anyone but myself." His voice held a hint of humor that Albus didn't appreciate in the least.

"Whose personality were you channeling? The act was flawless."

"I told you Renee' Olivander was a real person, correct?"

"You didn't mention it. Should I worry about him showing up?"

"No, he died some years ago, but as far as I know I was the only member of the family he kept up with. He actually left me a little place in Nice, though it's been too dangerous to visit for years." Edvard's face took on an easy, happy expression that he wore far too little in Albus' opinion.

"Renee' was a friend as well as a cousin. He was quite a bit older than me, and a notorious lover of women. I spent several summers during my formative years watching him woo English roses and French Mademoiselles." Edvard grinned. "He was one of the kindest men I ever met, but he loved wine, song, and beautiful women above all other things."

Albus listened, fascinated, despite himself. "What happened to him?"

Edvard smirked. "Died of a heart attack at ninety-two years old, after spending a night bedding three beautiful dancers from the Paris ballet."

Albus choked a bit. "You are kidding."

"Not even a little bit. There was a very good reason why I was the only one in the family who kept up with the old boy. He adored being the black sheep of the family and had quite an excellent time ensuring his status as said black sheep."

Albus felt his lips spreading into a smile, even though he was a bit miffed at Edvard. He offered his arm and they appeared at the gates of Hogwarts seconds later.

They were quiet as they entered the gate, climbed the stairs the Albus' private rooms and while Albus hung up the magenta outer robes he'd worn for the occasion. The words seemed to build up inside Albus until his mouth was unable to contain them. "Fine. But was it really necessary to needle the man like that?"

Edvard paused as he hung his own cream colored robes. "You must mean Jean Marie, because it certainly didn't bother Abraxas in the least."

"He's using Helga Malfoy to get access to the Manor."

Edvard paused as he brushed over his cloak and shot Albus a measuring look. "He's also a bit territorial about her."

Albus tossed himself into his favorite squishy armchair. "That's because if her attention wanders, he won't have a reason to drop by. Hermione swears he's there as much as she is, and they are living there this summer."

"Whatever the reason, I thought I'd give him something other than me to think about." Edvard made his way to the sidebar and poured a healthy measure of brandy in his glass and raised a brow at Albus who waved off his courtesy.

"He's more likely to think about nothing but you."

Edvard settled himself into his own sleek leather chair. Albus had brought it from Edvard's home during his convalescence and now he couldn't imagine the quarters without the chairs on either side of the fire. "No, I know his type. He may hate me for upsetting his plans, but his instinct will be to try to draw Helga closer to himself."

"Still not the reaction we truly want." Albus sat up and paced for a few moments and then went to sidebar for his own glass of port.

Edvard waited until his beloved had taken a long drink to calm his nerves. "We need to bring her on board. Having her in the midst of all of this and unaware is an enormous risk."

"Agreed, but…"

The floo burned green as Abraxas, Hermione, and Tom stepped out, cleaning ashes as they clambered into the room. Albus raised his wand and the room moved enough to fit three more chairs by the fire. Hermione looked fascinated. "I've heard about adjustable extension charms, but I've never seen one used on a room before."

Albus looked amused. "I wish I could take credit, but I'm afraid that the Professor's quarters here at Hogwarts are quite amenable to changes. They are always the correct size for any occasion."

She sighed, and she sounded like a love struck girl. "The founders really were brilliant."

Albus smiled at his young protégée. Edvard loved how much the other man cared for all of his students, but Albus had a special place in his heart for the brilliant ones. And these three were some of his all-time favorites.

Albus served refreshments and they all managed to sit without knocking over any of the doilies that decorated every surface.

Tom cleared his throat. "I hope you don't think me rude or presumptuous, but I couldn't help overhearing what you were saying about bringing Helga into our merry band of brothers." His paramour gave him a faux-sharp look for his phrase but the boy didn't slow down. "I think we can all agree I've spent more time in Helga's head than anyone."

The circle nodded as the boy waited. Edvard couldn't help but think that in twenty years he's be the best Minister of Magic they'd ever had. Either that, or he would find himself a nice quiet cottage to raise brilliant babies with the little witch beside him. Either scenario seemed rather likely depending on his choices.

"I've been in Helga's head enough to really know her as a human being, both the good and the bad. She's shallow and lazy to her core. She's never had to work for anything and she's not interested in learning the art of doing so. She doesn't love Abraxas, though she likes him well enough, but his life isn't her utmost concern. She adores Lucius, but on her own, she'd be a selfish spoiled, prejudiced woman who would raise a spoiled, selfish and prejudiced child who would be certain that the world owed him the best of everything."

Albus nodded. "That was my reading on her as well. Is there anything that would turn her to our cause?"

"With Jean Marie being on the other side? Only her welfare and Lucius'. She currently thinks of Abraxas' welfare as part of hers' and her son's, so you might be able to use him, but I think it would take a direct threat to her own interest, and she's not very good at sensing that Gellert would be one. She can't really imagine a world where she isn't a member of the elite class."

Edvard felt his hope deflate. "So there's not really a way to use her. She'll just be a way to use Jean Marie without knowing what's going on. I hate to leave that tower unguarded, if you get my meaning…"

Tom seemed to be thinking. "There might be another way. What if we used her to lure Jean Marie into a place where we change him instead. Helga wouldn't be as much of a security risk if we weren't using him to feed Gellert misinformation."

Albus raised a brow. "What did you have in mind?"


	70. Chapter 70

_**AN: I hope all of you are having a happy Memorial Day Weekend (At least here in the states…hope everyone outside the US had a Happy regular Weekend). My family runs heavy toward the Military, so it's a big weekend for us. I've spent two days at the waterpark and been to three cookouts. Why we feel the need to celebrate our departed heroes with grilled beef, potato salad, and marshmallow fluff is something I don't quite understand…but I don't argue with marshmallow fluff.**_

 _ **In any case, hope all of you enjoy the chapter, and expect the next one Sunday, June 4th (we'll have more family down and be heading back to the waterpark again, so it might be late Sunday night).**_

Sophie felt the mild, magical tug as the mirror beckoned. Sergei had designed it to alert her when he wished to contact her…a mild tug so that she didn't appear startled and give up the fact that she was a spy.

Of course she was a spy, in a way. Just not for Sergei and Grindelwald.

Madam Ivanova caught her eye as she slipped out of the dinner hall. She expertly picked her way through the dark trails to the room where the children of the rebels, and talented strays that they'd picked up (such as herself) studied magic. The room was dark, but no one would notice her in it, not at the dinner hour.

She and Madam Ivanova had been hoping for this call since Abraxas Malfoy had informed them that Sergei was dead.

Sophie received a letter hours later from the man himself. He'd arranged for it to be delivered in case of his death.

The letter held ten gallions, more than she'd ever held in her life, and probably the most a post owl could carry unobtrusively. The letter said that there was money for her in Vienna, and more in England. She was to leave Ivanova and make her way to England and contact Hermione Granger directly. If Granger was dead, Sophie was not, under any circumstances to contact Gellert Grindelwald. Her orders were to escape and live quietly.

Sophie was touched. The man had only spent a week with her, but he'd left her enough money to see to her for years if she was canny with it, longer if she used it to get an apprenticeship. Sergei hadn't been a good man, but he had been good to her, which left her feeling a bit confused about him.

Also, his caution implied that he too, had planned to kill Gellert Grindelwald…which was a trait she could appreciate in anyone.

Sophie had no intention of following Sergei's instructions, no matter how kindly he meant them.

Once she was securely hidden in the closet of the classroom, she pulled out the mirror and activated the connection.

Her throat closed. Her eyes widened.

On the other end of the mirror call was Gellert Grindelwald himself.

Sophie trembled as her surprise and fear momentarily trumped her rage at the man who was directly responsible for so much of what had gone wrong in her life. He didn't look like a monster. He had a compelling, handsome face…slight streaks of silver in his strawberry blond hair, eyes that you would trust…if you didn't know he was a megalomaniac.

The man smirked in the mirror. "You recognize me. Good. You might have heard in the rebel camp that Sergei has died."

Sophie nodded, once.

The man's eyes were as cold as chunks of ice. "You'll repot directly to me now. Next month, I have plans, and I want Ivanova removed before I implement them. At a specified time, you will exit the protections that she has surrounding her camp, taking the mirror with you. The mirror will allow a few of my best curse breakers to find you. Once they are in direct proximity of the camp, they should be able to remove the charms protecting it."

Sophie felt her breath catch. Grindelwald's men…near her camp, near her people…

"My lord, Sergei and I tried…" She never finished the phrase. Searing pain raced through her body, causing her to collapse into the floor of the closet with a muffled whine, the rough wood of the floor bruising her knees, leaving a long splinter in her knee.

"Your job is not to think. Your job is to lead the men to the camp. If you accomplish this you will be rewarded." He caressed his wand as she struggled to get up from the floor. She dashed the tears from her face and sniffed loudly to keep the snot from dripping down her face. The dictator nodded to himself as she stiffened her spine.

"Sergei chose well. You'd do well to honor his memory. I will contact you later this week at the same time." He cleared the mirror and she felt her stomach revolt. She managed not to vomit by sheer willpower…she couldn't stand the idea of losing good food. The rebels had fed her better than anyone had ever done.

She pulled the long splinter from her knee with a wince, and shot off to report the conversation to Madam Ivanova.

She chuckled to herself as she formulated a plan. It would do Grindelwald's men a world of good to break the protections around a place that wasn't the rebel camp…say, one of the vampire nests that dotted the Bulgarian countryside. Ivanova would help her think of something clever. Those bastards weren't coming anywhere near her people, not if she had anything to say about it.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom twirled Helga around in a complicated turn flawlessly; it was more difficult than it should have been because the woman's eyes were glued to her lover, who was dancing with Jean Marie Bassett. Tom himself was more than a bit distracted. Hermione was in a corner with Abraxas and Albus. They were certainly having a better time than he was. Of course, they'd both already danced sets with Helga, whereas Tom had begged off. With any luck he'd be able to keep it to the single set.

Edvard Olivander, in disguise as his own provincial cousin, was chatting with an older couple as Helena Malfoy looked on. They were some of the Bulgarian aristocracy that had immigrated when Grindelwald took power, unless his eyes was completely out…and Tom knew how to read a room better than Helena Malfoy, and that was saying something.

The set ended (finally) and he delivered Helga to her next partner. He stopped to get a cup of punch for himself and one for Hermione as he passed the refreshment table. This served two purposes: first, it didn't look like Tom was racing back to Hermione (a behavior that generally made people think that he had reason to mistrust his paramour, which was hardly the case). Second, there was a good chance that she might actually be parched and was too deep in conversation to attend to her physical needs…

As he suspected, she flashed him a thankful grin when he brought her the cup, downing the while of it in one quick sip between points. Tom wasted no time in refilling the dainty cup silently.

"Tom, tell Albus that there simply has to be a thirteenth use for Dragon's blood in potion making."

Several noted magical theorists were standing around so Tom shrugged. "The arithmancy doesn't lie. It indicates at least one more use, possibly more, once you factor in the uses that have already been discovered."

Albus tossed his hands up in mock outrage. "I spent twenty years finding twelve. I'll leave it to you and Hermione to spend the next twenty finding the rest!" The gathered wizards chuckled.

The conversation was entirely staged of course. It was one that they'd had in the lab that Albus wanted to recreate to highlight Hermione and Tom's interests, both to the Wizingmont and to Gellert when his spies reported the cheerful banter between Albus and his young protégées.

Hermione conjured a whiteboard and let it float in the middle of the walkway. She twisted her wand and complicated arithmancy flowed in her tiny, neat handwriting, with occasional annotations in Tom's nearly perfect script.

"We've been working on it." She looked at the calculations with a justifiable dollop of pride and just a hint of challenge…if Tom hadn't known the whole thing was carefully choreographed, he would have wondered if Hermione intended to supplant Albus.

Albus pulled out his half-moon spectacles and pretended to consider the calculations. "I see. You've taken into account the breed, but did you account for…ah, yes, I see it now…you did indeed account for the season that the blood was taken. Excellent."

He took off the glasses and cleaned them thoughtfully. "It's quite extraordinary. You went about it from an entirely different direction from myself and Flamel. We were looking for what we could prove…you were looking for what was missing."

Tom nodded and used his most persuasive voice. "We considered the negative space."

A short, aggressive wizard in a dinner jacket with patches on the sleeves frowned. "What in Circe's name do you mean young man?"

Tom pointed to the calculations. "The value of the blood indicates that it can be split into thirteen, not twelve, combinations. What we don't know if those thirteen are the only ones, or if there are twenty-six uses for dragons' blood. We're still working out a table to calculate the risks. Some of the experiments will be dangerous and most of them will be expensive."

Abraxas slung an arm around Tom's shoulder and tipsily pointed to the crowd, "None of you get any ideas about poaching. Once they graduate, these two are coming home to work for me. And all of you know you can't outbid me."

 **TMRTMR**

"Do you think they'll take the bait?"

Tom grinned at her and pulled her closer. "I'm certain they will. Bunch of unimaginative ninnies, stealing ideas from children."

"As long as it interests Gellert I don't care. If we manipulate him into asking for too much, we'll have an excuse to fail at least one of the experiments. It would be quite nice to accidentally blow up half of his fortress."

"It would also be nice to avoid being tortured when he realizes that our philosopher's stone won't do anything but make iron pyrite and gillywater."

She batted her eyelashes. "Well that _would be_ nice too. One should always avoid torture if one can."

Tom wrapped his long arms around her, burying his face in her soft, slightly frizzy curls. He loved the way she smelled…not just her soap (which varied….she used what was available wherever she stayed, from the French castile bars in the Malfoy bathrooms, to the bubbles at Hogwarts, to the rough lye-based soaps at the orphanage. Under each scent was something distinctly her own. He couldn't tell if the smell was her magic, or just the scent of her skin…whatever it was, she smelled delicious to him.

"I don't know Hermione. Some forms of torture are quite…enjoyable." He nipped her neck and smoothed the redness with his tongue. Then he kissed her soft cheek. "Sleep. Our problems will keep until tomorrow."

 **HJGHJG**

Hermione snuggled into his arms and without any effort at all, she drifted to sleep.

At some point in the night, insistent hands woke her. She startled awake, clutching her wand…and realized that it wasn't an emergency, just Tom's hands wandering in his sleep.

She blushed (she'd been enjoying his exploration quite a bit and the evidence was drenching her knickers).

She slipped out of bed. Tom seemed to reach for her, mumbling in his sleep. She smoothed the curls away from his face and the frown disappeared as he buried his face in her pillow. She watched him, wondering if he could sleep anymore without being half-smothered by her hair. She'd certainly missed the python-like constriction of his arms during those times when they couldn't find a way to comfort each other during the night.

Her body was still tingling from his hands, so she turned and made her way to the toilet.

She splashed water on her face and relieved her bladder, took a long drink of water and took a hard look at herself in the mirror.

She looked a lot like the Hermione Granger that she'd seen during her first childhood. Same perfect teeth (thanks to magic), same untamed hair, same facial shape, same eye color. This body was smaller though, and it would never be as large as the one she'd worn before. The hair had a touch less blond in the highlights, a bit more red in the sun.

She hadn't spent time looking in mirrors the first time around, but she thought that her chin might be a tad more pointed than it had been. Perhaps her fingers slightly longer in relation to her palms.

Realization crashed into her. "This isn't my body." The words fell from her lips without her permission.

A shimmering shape appeared beside her. Warm brown eyes with caramel colored highlights. Laugh lines around the eyes and hair a mixture of grey and mahogany.

Never had a shade been more welcome. "Mother."

"Hello Love. I could feel you calling me through the ring." Hermione glanced down at the Resurrection stone on her finger.

Helen Granger kissed a finger and tapped Hermione's nose. "What's wrong?"

Hermione finally noticed that she was shaking. The words exploded from her. "I didn't ask. It was stupid, but I just assumed….and I didn't ask how they'd sent me back. This body…it _belonged_ to someone."

Helen smiled, completely serene. "It did. She would have been Hermione Granger's great-aunt."

"And whatever power sent me back took her life so I could take her place!"

Her Mother's voice was sharp and cut through her slight hysteria. "Humans make mistakes my love. The force that sent you back does not. It sent you back, into a form that was originally sent to assist Albus and Tom. A form that died before she could meet either, a form that was deliberately eliminated by the opposing side."

"So the soul that was wearing this body…"

"Oh love, haven't you guessed? This body was _your own_ in this time. Your soul was just sent back with a different set of memories, and your mind was clouded until the time was right. This body, this life, was stolen from you. Many Champions are found and eliminated during childhood, before they can pursue their purpose."

"So, my soul is always a Granger?"

Helen's shade laughed. "Not at all love. I think the plan was always to send you back. Your name in the timeline you originally lived in was Hermione because this Champion Hermione in this timeline was in place…simply waiting for you to be ready to return to this time with the knowledge and experience of waging a war as a child."

Hermione silently cast a warming charm on herself. "Merlin's balls."

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Her mother shook her finger at her in a way that was so familiar. "Just because you are close to one hundred and fifty years old and in a stressful situation, it doesn't give you the right to use language like that."

Hermione ducked her head. "Yes Mum."

The woman who had been her mother in another life pressed her lips to Hermione's forehead. Hermione couldn't feel them, but it made her feel calmer. "My time is running out. We all have our moments of doubt, but you are not random. Everything about you was planned and placed exactly as it is so that you can face the darkness…and this time, win. Really win. Remember the reason you were sent back. Not because you lost the war, but because the cost of the war was too high."

With one last loving look, the only mother that Hermione could remember disappeared.

And she was left with a foreboding feeling that she'd just been reminded of what was really at stake.

She was still crying when Tom found her the next morning.

"Hermione?" She could hear the concern in his voice. It was early; there no windows in the bathroom, but she doubted the sun was up.

She tried to bring herself under control. "I'm here. Don't worry…just…just a bad night, I guess."

Tom looked murderous. "Who made you cry?"

She gave him a watery smile. "I saw my mother, using the Resurrection Stone. She and had a bit of a chat."

Tom dropped down beside her, wrapping his arms around his knees to mirror her posture, face turned toward her. "What did she say?"

Hermione took his hand in her own. "She said I was meant to be here. With you. That everything else that happened was part of that plan. She said I needed to remember why I was actually here."

"And are you going to enlighten me?"

She hugged him, so tight. "If we both live through this war, I promise. If we don't I'll tell you after I'm dead."

His eyes turned stormy. She cupped his cheek. "Promise me….if something happens to me, you'll be the same? Really live your life, and make the world a better place? It's what you are meant to do you know…"

"I am meant to be with you."

She whispered, "Death isn't the end Tom. It's just another beginning."

He frowned at her, but he didn't let her go. If anything, he just held on tighter. "I love you."

She burrowed into his chest. "Don't forget that you do. No matter what happens."

He gave her a little sideways smile. "I will never forget Hermione." Somehow that didn't make her feel better about the conversation.


	71. Chapter 71

_**AN: Time again for me to say 'thank you' for all the lovely reviews. I sat down and story lined the rest of this out yesterday. So I know basically what's going to happen from now until the end. I think I've found ways to tie up most f the loose ends I left dangling all over the story.**_

 _ **I will say now…I only write happy endings. It's who I am and what I do. It's WHY I write. So please take that under advisement when you read my work. It's my goal to make you smile at the end of the day, even if we had to get through some rough patches with the characters along the way.**_

Hermione's knuckles tightened on the modish shopping bag in her hands as she counted to fifty and reminded herself that she was one of the good guys, and good guys didn't transfigure people into decorative plants just because they were annoying.

At the moment she couldn't quite remember why.

Helga and Jean Marie were nattering rapturously about one of the expatriate French designers that had just opened up a shop in Muggle London. As a favor, they allowed her to 'come along'. In reality, she was tasked with keeping the two from shattering the Statute of Secrecy and ending up in Bedlam (if the Muggles caught them) or Azkaban (if the wizards had to come in and clean up after the dimwitted duo).

Both insisted on wearing wizarding robes to see the designer, refusing Hermione's advice. She'd been forced to disillusion both of them…which would have been splendid, if she'd dared to add a silencing spell.

The street was busy, but not so busy that Muggles didn't look up, confused, at the voices.

Hermione slowed down enough to crush Jean Marie's instep with the heel of her boot.

A muffled curse behind her and the noise of Helga running into the man followed. She reached into the long pocket in her skirt and cast a quick spell. "If you two don't keep quiet, I'm going to to turn around and take you straight home."

The threat was met with moans of dismay and no little bit of grumbling.

She rolled her eyes and grumbled in her own mind. Abraxas was interviewing at Hogwarts as the new flying instructor. Dippet wouldn't say no to a governor and they needed to be sure that Gellert didn't work in another spy, so when Albus alerted them that Professor Higgins was taking a leave of absence after a nasty fall; Abraxas had put the plan forward.

Tom was going with him, on some kind of errand of his own that he hadn't shared with her. She was slightly worried, and it made her temper short.

Albus was with Hagrid. They were meeting Newt Scamander. The famous magizoologist was in London for a short trip and had invited Albus for tea. Albus had quietly responded with a letter that asked permission to bring one of his most promising students. Hagrid had been stunned to hear himself described in those terms.

Tom had punched the younger boy in the arm. "Who else could he mean you great oaf? There isn't a student at Hogwarts with your natural knack for creatures."

So Hagrid was meeting his idol, and Tom was probably checking on his snake. While she was left with the dunderheads for the shopping trip from Hades.

She exhaled slightly as she opened the door to the shop, removing the charms once they were inside. The designer had rather excellent Muggle repelling charms, so it was safe enough.

The shop was full of robes that showed far too much cleavage for the English style. Helga began looking at dresses that were on the dummies, while the magical mannequins turned and bent to show off the lines of the dresses.

Jean Marie whispered something in Helga's ear that made her giggle gratingly and slap him playfully with her fan.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened a book by the basilisk's namesake, Maria the Jewess.

A short, slightly balding Frenchwoman with an impressive mole on her chin was suddenly at Hermione's elbow, her hand like iron keeping the book closed. "Non! When one comes to the dress shop mademoiselle, one does not bring a book!"

Jean Marie looked up from a very serious perusal of lace edged handkerchiefs. "Madam Rochambeau! It has been too long."

"Oui you rogue." Obligator air kisses were exchanged while Hermione tried to wrench her book away from the distracted dressmaker without any luck. The woman had hands like a vice. She stole a glance at Helga in her up to the minute wizarding robes and Hermione who was wearing a dress she'd found in the bargain bin last year while shopping for school robes. "And who have you brought me today?"

Jean Marie grinned. "May I present Helga Malfoy, the new bride of Abraxas Malfoy, and Hermione Granger, one of the most promising students at Hogwarts."

The dressmaker nearly fell all over herself to fawn on Helga, while generally ignoring Hermione, which would have been excellent, if the witch hadn't still held the book.

Jean Marie frowned slightly as the dressmaker excitedly took Helga's measurements. Hermione finally summoned the book when Madam and Helga were distracted and settled in to wait through what Hermione was certain would be an all day visit.

Eventually, Jean Marie caught Hermione's notice as he whispered furiously to Madam Rochambeau about something. Hermione narrowed her eyes and tightened her fingers on the book in her lap.

Her eyes widened when the Madam exclaimed, "What a wonderful, generous gift to an orphan sir!"

Jean Marie shrugged as if whatever he was offering was nothing. Hermione felt her lips thin in almost exactly the same expression that Helga's held. She found herself on a pedestal beside the other woman, on the receiving end of a very dark glare, and worse, her book was back in Madam's clutches and she was confident that she would be stabbed by a hundred sewing needles if she asked for it.

Jean Marie slid toward her as Madam was busy, checking the drape on one of Helga's new robes. Out of the corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips he whispered. "The robes are actually made at the command of our mutual acquaintance. He insisted that you be brought here for an entire wardrobe at his expense."

Meaning, Gellert had specific requirements for her wardrobe in upcoming visits. That was never a good thing.

Hermione didn't allow that thought to show on her face. She just rolled her eyes, obviously exasperated with all the rigmarole. "Remind me to figure out a magical way to get this done so that I don't have to waste time on this nonsense for the rest of my life. Shopping is tedious." She aimed for imperious in her tone but it might have come out more like petulance…still, it didn't show any of the dread that she felt when she considered why Gellert might be planning her wardrobe and not Tom's.

Would Gellert kill Tom to remove him as a rival?

Undoubtedly, if he could get away with it.

He might simply be planning to dress Tom as a guard. Despite Sergei's rank, the other man had almost always worn a formal uniform. She took a deep breath as she considered the real possibility and tried to calm the twisting worry in her gut.

She needed to remove the spy at Hogwarts. Once the spy was eliminated, she could stop her own spying with a certain amount of impunity if need be. There were lines she would not cross. She'd already crossed too many to really be any kind of Champion of the light. She'd stood by and watched people raped and tortured to death for amusement…not even on the battlefield, but as a sick party favor.

She'd told herself at the time that there was nothing she could do, that keeping Tom and the rest of England safe required the ruse.

Perhaps, she had been right about that. She couldn't think of a better way to avoid the bloodshed than to have a spy, and the spy would have to gain Gellert's trust…meaning they would have to do dark, horrible things.

She did know one thing: She'd kill Gellert with her bare hands if he hurt Tom…plans and wars be damned.

Jean Marie was watching her face, and he'd noticed that she had been thinking about something furiously. She couldn't tell how much he'd gleaned from her expression, so she decided to distract him.

"Well, whatever your motivation, you'd better do something to pacify your lady love over there. She's stewing in jealousy because she knows you always have a reason when you do anything. I have no idea how you are going to spin this so that she doesn't limit your visiting privileges." She nodded to Helga, who was in a royal snit. Jean Marie hurried to her side and began oozing charm like some kind of giant slug.

Hermione knew the look on her face wasn't nice, but then again, she hadn't turned him into a decorative plant. Sometimes you had to call something a win and just leave it at that.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom left Abraxas at the door to the headmaster's office. He knew that his blond friend would be hours charming the elderly headmaster.

He made his way quietly to the bathroom that concealed the door to the chamber and slid down the pipes. Grimacing, he used a powerful cleaning spell on himself and on the pipes.

Then he pulled out a small, pocket-sized cage with an undetectable extension charm on it.

" _Mari"_

The snake speech came as naturally to him as English, perhaps more so.

Little Mari slithered into the anteroom gleefully. " _You are back early_!"

Tom grinned at the serpent as he caressed her sensitive eye ridges. The deadly glare blocked by her tightly sealed eyelids.

Tom began pulling doomed rabbits out of his cadge, wincing a bit at thought of their eventual fate. He consoled himself with the knowledge that they'd been raised for food and that _someone_ would have eaten them. Seemed a bit hypocritical to wince just because he could feel their warm fur. After all, he was quick enough to dish it up when the steak and kidney pie was passed around.

Mari caught three of the rabbits without opening her eyes. Tom watched solemnly as she ate with relish.

" _I have a favor to ask. I know we discussed me taking some venom before…I think I finally found a way."_ Mari's venom had melted two of the three containers he'd used to try to gather it, but he wanted it for the necklace around Hermione's neck. He was afraid that the basilisk venom would melt the necklace.

He'd finally found a solution. One of the small, hideous statuettes that Helga had smashed during her pregnancy had a base of Goblin Forged steel. Tom had transfigured it into a chamber to hold a single drop of the venom.

Mari willingly donated the drop of venom, she had very little use for it. She petrified most of her food.

Tom spent nearly two hours with the snake. He was still looking for the kind of place that needed something like her…a unicorn preserve or something like it. Unicorns were immune from the stare of the basilisk, but they were so pure that they were sometimes hunted. Having a basilisk around might deter some of the dark wizards who hunted the creatures for their horns and blood.

Tom finally left Mari to hunt the rest of the bunnies down and eat them. He used levitation charm on a transfigured mushroom to get himself up to the top of the pipes, might need to remember to bring his broom next time. Hermione had a spell that allowed them to slide up the pipes, but he'd been so excited about Mari that he'd never asked.

He washed his hands in the sink and wandered back toward the headmaster's office. A tiny listening spell alerted him that Dippett was still regaling Abraxas about his three years on the Quidditch team back in the early eighteen nineties.

Tom sighed, and then brightened. The house elves were generally glad to see him, and he had missed their cooking. He left a note for Abraxas and hurried around the empty corridors to the picture with the pea that Hermione had introduced him to in the first year.

Once inside, the elves greeted him warmly, and within a few moments he was sitting at the same table where he had learned 'proper' wizarding manners, steak and kidney pie steaming in front of him and little elves tisking and going on about whether he was eating properly over the summer without the elves feeding him.

He assured them that he was eating elf cooked foot at the Malfoy estate and the little creatures sighed in contentment.

"You is a good boy Master Tom." A pert female patted his curls and he smiled down at her as she brought another serving of pudding.

The hubbub quieted as the tiny old elf named Wyn made his way into the kitchen. The elf looked off. Frail and fragile, like his skin might peel off at any moment. The other elves watched him with grave concern.

"You be one of the ones askin' Wyn if the elves of Hogwarts could meddle in Wizarding matters."

Tom nodded. It had been Hermione who had asked technically, but he wasn't about to say anything. No need to remind them of her if they meant mischief.

The small elf was suddenly hovering, right beside his ear. "You be needin' to look at the professors young sir. Wyn has served Hogwarts as a kit and as a full-grown elf. Professors is supposed to protect the school, like the wards and like the elves."

Tom frowned. "Lestrange wasn't protecting Hogwarts."

Wyn nodded. "No sir, she was not. Not good for the children, not good for the wards. Wyn allowed the elves to keep the nasty professor away from the children. Now Young Sir needs to keep the professor away from the wards."

"Which professor?"

The elf opened his mouth to speak and dark blood began to bubble from his mouth.

Tom held his tiny body as he convulsed. "Professor cursed to silence…." More blood. "Keep the wards safe, keep the school safe…keep the other elves safe. Promise."

Tom looked into the eyes of the fierce little creature as it lay dying. His heart caught in his throat. "I promise."

 **ADADAD**

Albus returned to Hogwarts after a very pleasant afternoon. Newt was back in London after traveling abroad again, and he had news…both good and ill. Apparently the American Embassy hadn't thought that Gellert being in New York a few years before had been of enough interest to alert the British.

More dark and dangerous research. Albus couldn't help but wonder what other dark and dangerous research Gellert had indulged in over the years that he'd heard no tale of.

Balm to his soul though was the fact that young Hagrid had gotten along famously with Newt, enough so that he might consider taking Hagrid as an apprentice once he finished Hogwarts.

Albus had always regretted the fact that he couldn't save Newt from being tossed out unfairly as a boy.

Yes, despite the news about Gellert, the day, as a whole, was quite satisfying.

Until he got to the school. The whole thing was in a uproar.

Dippet was wringing his hands, Abraxas Malfoy had a protective arm around Tom, who looked like he was in shock, and who still had some dried blood on his robes. Professor Merrywhether was humming God Save the Queen as she took notes, and Flitwick was pacing nervously.

Dippet's expression cleared when he saw Albus. "I'm so glad you are back! We thought that you might have run afoul …"

Albus felt his eyes light up and turned to Abraxas. "Where is Hermione?"

The blond man frowned. "Shopping with Helga and Jean Marie Bassett. The issue is not Hermione. Wyn, the eldest elf here at Hogwarts was cursed. Tom was there."

"Merlin."

Dippet nodded. "The elves are in morning. I don't know how we're going to run the castle for two weeks…"

Albus cut across the man's foolishness. "The professors will have to do for themselves until the elves have recovered and chosen a new head of the bloodline."

"But someone cursed the elf. Worse, someone who was close enough to know that he was the eldest! I'd say only a half dozen people know that in all of England."

Albus considered his time at Hogwarts. "More like thirty. Wyn revealed his status as needed."

Dippet half-fainted as he fell into the chair that Merrythought moved under him with a near-contemptuous snort.

Albus put a protective hand on Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps we should take this to my office."

Tom met his eyes with shadows quite clear on his face. Albus jerked his head at Abraxas and nodded to his colleagues. "Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of this."

Merrythought snorted and rolled her eyes and then turned to Dippett and suggested that he have a drink with her, quite clearly distracting the man. Flitwick looked as if he might explode and Albus made a mental note to corner the little man up at some point and have Tom take a good long look at his mind. He didn't know the little charms teacher well, and being half-goblin meant that he probably had a chip on his shoulder, which was the sort of thing that Gellert knew how to exploit.

For the moment, he was most concerned with Tom.

He flooed the manor as soon as they reached his office and she came through with a sour expression on her face, that turned to horror when she saw Tom.

Tom seemed to snap out of whatever had bothered him when he heard Hermione's panicky voice.

The boy pulled her into his lap and smoothed her hair while she babbled about murdering Gellert.

Albus found himself agreeing more than ever. Gellert Grindelwald had to die.


	72. Chapter 72

_**AN: Hi guys! I'm sorry this update is short (not to mention late). I have a ton of stuff to do for my IRL book coming out next week. It is looking very, very busy, so I have no idea if I will have time for an update. (IRL book launch AND my daughter's birthday party). All I can say is that I will try to post something, though they may not be my normal length. Have a GREAT week!**_

Tom knew that he was being too rough: lips, teeth, and grasping fingers. He couldn't help it. The death of the elf left him feeling angry and shaky, and the only thing that seemed to help was the taste of Hermione's skin.

He'd waited until everyone had left the manor, but then he'd picked her up and carried her to their room. She'd laughed, but she hadn't protested. She seemed to understand his need to lose himself in the feel of her body.

She whimpered as he tasted the junction of her neck and ear, nipping the soft flesh as his fingers held her form to him like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

He pulled back, examining her face. Her eyes were wide, lips pink and swollen from kisses, hair in marvelous disarray. Tom took a shuddering breath and kissed her lips lightly. "Did I hurt you?"

Her lips quirked and she took a shuddering breath of her own, holding his body tightly against her panting frame. "No, but I may need a cold shower."

Tom laughed and kissed her again, pushing every boundary that she'd ever set for them as his hands wandered perilously close to the forbidden dips and valleys that he'd only touched in his dreams (and occasionally in his sleep).

She responded by twining her legs with his and allowing her own hands to roam his frame.

He chuckled and kissed his way to her collarbone, face inches from her breast.

He took in a shaky breath and softened his hands, soothing her body rather than demanding a response, moving away, respecting her wishes. She would be seventeen in a month. He would be seventeen after Christmas. She had specifically said that they would make love for the first time on his birthday, but he lived in hope. It had always seemed important to her, so he hadn't pushed…at least, he hadn't pushed much. He was a teenaged boy, and she did sleep in his arms every night. It was sweet torture sometimes to feel her snuggled against him, but it wasn't something he would give up for all the gold in Gringotts.

She laughed as he pulled her into a warm embrace, but he was almost certain there was as much regret as humor. She wanted him. He didn't doubt that. He'd sensed it in her for years. You couldn't spend as much time in someone else's mind as he did in hers and not know some things: and he was as certain of her love and the very sexual attraction she felt for him as he was of his own name.

But he was also fairly certain she would have pushed him away if he had cupped the inviting mound of flesh and teased the budding peak he imagined under the many layers she wore even to bed.

He felt himself harden painfully at the thought of her breasts naked and exposed to him.

He used occlumency to calm himself and center his thoughts.

She looked at him with ancient eyes.

He kissed her nose. "I don't know why we are waiting, but I won't push."

She rubbed her cheek on his, almost cat-like. "I know."

He pulled her closer, wondering if her secrets, the ones he'd never asked about, were something he wanted to know. They made her sad in a way that he'd never felt in anyone else, and he'd been into a lot of minds. None of them were like Hermione's. Her thoughts were…old. They had all the freshness of the thoughts of the young most of the time, but there were places that her thoughts were older than any witch or wizard he knew; thoughts that were cured like old leather armor, much less flexible than even Dumbledore, like she was a century older than the man.

"Will you tell me all of your secrets for my birthday this year?" He asked the question without thought and he felt his face twist in surprise. He hadn't meant to say that.

She sighed and ran her fingers through his curls over and over. Then she took out her wand and brought out a stone bowl…a pensive.

"Why wait?" She put her wand to her head and began pulling out silvery stands.

"What?"

She pulled a particularly long silver strand out of her mind with a wrenching motion, like the memory didn't want to come and looked at him, suddenly serious. "I only waited because I didn't want you to refuse my help. Swear to me that you won't get angry and put yourself in danger."

His eyes narrowed. "Why would I put myself in danger?"

She continued to pull out the strands. "Because people don't always react logically to things. You have to promise me that no matter how you feel about me once your hear this, that you won't…" She closed her eyes at a painful thought and took a breath to calm herself. "You have to let me protect you. Always. No matter if you hate me or if what I say disgusts you. We don't have to remain as we are if it bothers you though. You'll be free once I tell you all of this, not bound to me except as your protector, and hopefully, still your friend."

He blinked, suddenly worried. "I love you."

She smiled. "And I love you. I always will. But I will accept however you feel once you know the whole truth."

"Why would it change things?"

"Why don't you look inside and find out?"

He twined his fingers in hers'. "Come with me. Tell me what I'm seeing."

She frowned, but nodded. "It would probably make more sense that way."

 **HJGHJG**

It was difficult to direct memories in a pensive. Luckily the first memory was fairly tame. It was something Hermione would never forget. She'd been around three, she'd just learned to read and she wanted a book…not a kid book, but one of mummy's big books on the top shelf. A large medical dictionary with a fascinating spine and gold-leaf lettering that intrigued her three year old mind. A book that interesting had to be better than her own brightly colored books!

Tom smirked as the heavy book drifted slowly toward the tiny girl that she'd been.

He laughed as she sat down and began deciphering the dictionary as well as her reading level allowed.

He did noticed Helen Granger's attire as she walked into the room and wondered aloud how Hermione had gotten the book. "Oh I will murder your father! Honestly. Only he would think that a medical dictionary is appropriate reading material for a child!"

Hermione cautiously took Tom's hand, and he frowned at her reticence. She shrugged as her mother cuddled her smaller self in the memory. The Granger's house faded, and a new scene came up.

Hermione was a skinny first year, but perhaps not as skinny as she'd been this time around with Tom. She was cowering in a corner as two boys fought a troll.

Tom's brows rose as he noted where she was, and how she looked. He knew that she wouldn't have cowered like that as a first year.

He frowned at Harry and Ron.

The scene changed, and Minerva was explaining what it was to be a Champion, and that Hermione was being sent back.

The memories changed to when she saw Tom for the first time, the moment she realized what he was escaping at the orphanage, their first hug.

The memories shimmered and they were in Malfoy Manor, blond heads watching as Bellatrix Lestrange screamed about her vault and Hermione just screamed as she was tortured. Tom's eyes flashed, enraged. She held his hand as they watched her trembling form under the blade that carved 'mudblood' into her arm. Hermione hadn't remembered pissing herself during the torture, but there was a wet stain on the front of her worn and dirty jeans. When they had escaped, Fluor had shot healing spells at her and forced potions down her throat. She must have also cleaned her without Hermione even noticing. Shock was a wonderful thing sometimes. It kept one from acting, but it also protected the mind.

The scenes flipped by, no order in them. The birth of her first child. Her first Christmas with her parents after the war. Fighting with Molly Weasley about giving her children sweets before dinner. Dozens of little moments from her former life. The dreams she'd had that felt like true-dreams and the visions from the resurrection stone. Anything. Everything.

A vision of her last, dying sigh as an old, old woman. She hadn't fought death, hadn't feared it. In a way, her sprit had welcomed the quiet shedding of her old body, knowing subconsciously that her spirit was something else entirely.

Tom watched.

She knew he understood what he was seeing.

When the memories slowed, she pulled them both from the silvery depths.

She sat him on the bed, careful not to touch him more than she had to. Trying to give him time to adjust to the idea that the girl he held in his arms was actually a very old woman who had taken her old body back at the moment of death.

"The man you were fighting. Voldemort. He was me."

She took a deep breath, and told him the unvarnished truth. "Yes."

 _ **AN: Please don't kill me. Dead writers tell no tales. I give you my solemn word, there will be an update no later than June 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **. Sooner if I can manage it.**_


	73. Chapter 73

_**AN: Again, I want to let all of you know I'm sorry for the slow / short updates. I'm absolutely exhausted, my house looks like it was raided by Huns, and I'm sun burned, but the birthday party and the real life book release are both over with. Have a great week. I will try to update next weekend with a normal sized chapter.**_

Tom watched Hermione's memories in a near-trance.

His fingers twitched when he watched the woman torturing her. The possessive streak that knew (and accepted in himself) urging him to do something, even though the events were fifty years in the future and had already happened…and conversely were now unlikely to happen.

His heart did something odd when he realized the old woman dying was _his_ Hermione. He watched her face as she died; the body shrunken once the soul was absent. She even looked like his Hermione, this dead old woman who wouldn't be born for a generation.

He watched scenes from her life.

The scenes, he realized, of a full life. A life lived entirely without him.

Well almost.

His heart nearly stopped when he realized who the evil wizard in her memories had to be.

It was the only solution that made all the puzzle pieces fit.

He was the monster.

His voice was rough. "How can you touch me, knowing what I did?"

Her eyes held knowledge that had always seemed strange in her young face.

The small lie of being a seer angered him for a moment, but he knew why she'd kept her true nature a secret.

She put a tentative hand in his curls…and her touch was tentative not because she feared or hated him, but because she was worried about her deception.

He hated not knowing the truth.

He hated that she'd lied to him.

Hated it.

But he trusted that she'd had a good reason to do so. If he was the monster, the Voldemort, that had hurt her…he vaguely remembered her talking about some stupid group, Death Dunderheads or something similar. She'd be mad to come up and say to him, "oh hullo there…it's awkward to mention it, but could you please refrain from becoming a homicidal megalomaniac?"

He would have thought she was as mad as Mrs. Cole always assumed he was.

She had traveled through space and time to stop a war.

And he had no doubt that her stories of violence were true. He'd seen the proof of that in her memories.

Sensing his unhappiness she whispered, "You were forged into a what you became. You were targeted by a force that steered you in the way it wanted you to go."

He raised a brow and let his fury color his words. "What? The devil made me do it?" He didn't buy that.

She chuckled but her hand never stopped petting his curls. He pulled her close and she melted into him.

"No." She traced his face, eyes full of sorrow. "You had free will. But you were led to what you did by darkness. It concentrated on you like nothing had ever done on a single human being. Because you were the knife edge. You were the point of the spear."

She took a deep breath. "Whether you won or failed, you tipped the balance in the darkness' favor. The dark didn't care if you accomplished your personal goal of living forever…and I understand why Voldemort was so afraid of dying."

"You speak like he and I are two different people."

"You _are_ two different people. Just look at what a different person you are now than the boy he was at sixteen! In my timeline he killed a student without remorse and murdered his father to create a horocrux by this age."

Tom felt his face flinch.

She caught his face in her hands. "That's what _he_ did. You have saved my life so many times, fought Grindelwald beside me, invented a shield cloak to protect me and the other fighters that will face Grindelwald, and you even saved Helga's life for Merlin's sake!"

Tom grimaced. She kissed him.

"Dumbledore was the first contact for you from the magical world in the other timeline. He…well, he was not a good choice. I can see now that it was supposed to be me that contacted you in one way or another. But the darkness managed to kill me. Before the light brought me back of course."

"What?"

She shrugged. "This is my body. It's just from a different lifetime. I wasn't sent back willy-nilly. I was sent back to my own form at the moment we were supposed to meet in the original plan."

Tom felt his jaw drop open, just a bit. He recovered quickly though, like he always did. "But instead of an eleven year old girl who wouldn't know much about magic, I got a woman who had lived an entire lifetime. One who had fought at least one war…" He raised a brow.

Her lips twitched and she looked both prim and strangely fierce, the way she did when she was dueling. "Just the one war. Everything else was just skirmishes. But yes. My being who I am and knowing what would happen has changed how things would have been. But then, so did the trick the darkness played when they predisposed your body to darkness."

"And how do you think the dark did that?"

She hesitated. "I don't have any proof of this, but I think your mother was already pregnant before she dosed your father with love potion. I think young Tom was a bit of a tomcat, and must have acted on Merope's obvious crush at some point, while all the while maintaining his arranged match to some squire's daughter. I'm sure he fooled around with half the county. Albus gathered memories from people who were around the other you. One of your mother, before she married your father. One where she was terrorized by your grandfather. I know from those memories that there was a huge fight about Merope mooning over your father. Though it was never shown, I'm quite certain that Merope was punished in some way. I saw those memories myself after the war. My friend Harry allowed it when I was Minister of Magic and we were working on a law to protect the victims of abuse. You don't get that kind of shaking fear without abuse. That, taken with what we know about the darkness, probably explains how you were 'born to darkness', though I don't know the specifics and I'm not sure I want to know which spells you could use to torture a pregnant woman to incline her child to the dark."

"So the force of light, whatever it is, sent you back to save me." His voice was harsh, he knew it, but it hurt. Hermione had been his first friend. She cared for him, he knew she did…but it hadn't started with caring. It had started with her being sent back to do a job. He needed to decide if that changed anything. If the feelings she had for him were real, did how it began matter?

Her voice was soft. "I think, though I don't know, that you and I were partners, as Champions, and have been for a long time. I think many things change over time, and the exact relationships are not always the same, but I think we have spent many lifetimes together, which was why you instinctively trusted me when we met."

Tom snorted. "Don't be daft. I was just trying to figure out what you did to Edith or Edna or whatever he name was." But he felt his lips twitch. She was right. He had shared more with her on the first day they'd known each other than he'd shared with any other human before that point. Up until then he'd been charming and polite when he needed to be, but he'd never actually let anyone see him vulnerable. Not without taking a steep price in return when the opportunity presented itself.

But it had felt right, because she was his. He'd known that…

Ah. That's what she was talking about. That instinctive knowledge. The feeling he'd had from the earliest days of their friendship. He'd always assumed that it was simply that she was his first introduction into magic. His special, magical girl.

His.

He felt things slide into place. Hermione was his. She had been for more than one lifetime, and would be even after they died.

He felt something deep within himself nearly purr at that knowledge.

He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her down into the bed with him. Her eyes were still sad, so he kissed her and tucked her under his chin.

Then he said, "I can't believe I'm dating the ex-Minister of Magic."


	74. Chapter 74

_**AN: Happy Sunday all my lovely people! And here we are…the final year of Hogwarts for Tom and Hermione. I don't know how many more chapters we have left because I planned events, not chapters, but I do know exactly where I am going with the rest of the story. Next week is the 4**_ _ **th**_ _ **of July here in the states, which is another big weekend for family activities. There WILL be a chapter. I just don't know exactly what day. No later than the 4**_ _ **th**_ _ **. I have that day off so I should be able to get up early and hammer out my notes.**_

On the first of September, Tom and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express for their final year.

They carried a light (but magically enhanced) basket of nibbles courtesy of Abraxas Malfoy's house elves on Helena Malfoy's orders. They both had letters from the Flamels with a list of books to use as they made the faux Philosophers' Stone for Gellert (as well as some good general advice on how to handle the fact that they were head boy and girl respectively). Perenelle couldn't stop gushing about how proud she was of them both.

Albus had argued against the idea privately, thinking that they had far too much on their plates. Perenelle and Helena had won the day however, noting that as orphans, however well-connected they currently were, Tom and Hermione would undoubtedly benefit from the cachet of being Head Boy and Head Girl.

Edvard Olivander had snorted and reminded Albus that allowing anyone else to take the place would be ludicrous. Both Tom and Hermione were excellent with people, well ahead of NEWT standard in their spells, and if they didn't have time to personally tutor some of the slower students…well, that wasn't a duty that every single head boy and girl had taken on after all. A group of prefects assigned to that duty would work every bit as well. Hermione could delegate like none other.

Tom escorted Hermione to the carriage with no small amount of nostalgia at the forefront of his mind and no less affection that he'd ever shown to her.

They were still somewhat wrong-footed with each other after her revelation. Muscle memory and true enjoyment of each other won out most of the time, and then Tom would look up and remember that she'd lied, or just as bad…that she had lived a whole life before she'd met him. And those moments were a special kind of awkward.

He was still so shell-shocked that he wasn't pushing for the continuation of the caresses that had led her to reveal everything to him.

She had the impression that he was digesting it all, and that his body was somewhat on autopilot (another thing that didn't exist yet!).

For her part, it was fabulous and awkward and terrifying that he knew. They'd spent the final few days of their summer discussing things that she shouldn't know. Not details of politics, or the course of the war. No, they'd talked about scientific breakthroughs in the Muggle world, music, art, the tiny leaps in the world of magic (Hermione was quite distressed that their society hadn't moved forward at the pace that the Muggles did in the early nineties, and it was something she'd fought the entire time she was Minister of Magic). She had to admit, it was a great relief to be able to discuss her previous life, but it was even more of a relief to know that that there were no more secrets between them.

Tom was quiet as the steam curled around the window and the engine panted as the students found their way onto the train; the ritual of hugs and tears the same as it had been every year that he and Hermione had clambered onto the train.

"I suppose it is different, having graduated once already." He said the words quietly, almost to himself. She knew how much he would miss Hogwarts.

She set up the food from the basket, picking up a tiny game bird that was the size of her thumb. The house elves had magically roasted and deboned it, stuffed it with brie, and drizzled a light orange glaze on the crispy skin. Heaven.

She thought carefully before she spoke. She wanted to offer him nothing but truth from here on out. "I suppose it is different. My final year I was almost two years older than I am now. We came back, after the war…called it eighth year." She thought about that trip, with the empty seats, and the reminder of the fallen in every corner of the castle.

Tom covered her hand. "That war will never be. I won't begin it, so the people you loved are safe."

She kissed him without thinking about the distance that had sprung up between them, and the heat of the kiss startled her. She pulled back quickly, breathless. Tom's eyes were sharp and forge-hot.

She pulled in a shuddering breath. He cupped her face and kissed her softly, just a peck, but with such gentleness that she wanted to melt into him. He ended the kiss and started making a plate from the basket.

She picked up another of the little birds and added some kind of sharp cranberry relish and a roll that was soft and spelled to remain at the perfect temperature.

Tom licked the butter off his fingers like a heathen. "Helena must want us to come back soon. This is the best food I've ever eaten."

Hermione smirked. "She was just showing Helga the kind of things she'll need to pack for Lucius eleven years from now."

Tom laughed.

Hermione watched a set of parents escort a sandy-haired boy to the platform. The mother's robe was old but so starched that it would probably stand up all on its own. The father wore the robes of a minor Ministry worker, but they had obviously seen better days. He had a potbelly, his arms were almost ape-like in their brawn. It was a face that had haunted her nightmares along with the visage of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Greyback." Her voice was strained, but she knew the boy. When he was older, he would look like a bulkier version of his father.

"Who is that?"

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she didn't want to lie to him, even by omission. "Fenrir Greyback. Sometime this year he'll wander into the Forbidden Forest and be attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that he was lured out there by a friend of the family, in revenge over the matter of non-payment for two prize pigs. He'll survive the attack, barely, but he'll be banned from Hogwarts because of his affliction. His family will disown him and he'll be forced to seek refuge with the pack in the north country. He's brutal enough to achieve leadership in the first few years. He bites dozens, maybe hundreds of people during his lifetime. He specialized in biting and then kidnapping children. To raise them to hate wizards." She frowned and took a calming breath. "I may need to invent wolfsbane forty years early."

Tom nodded. "Or we could try to keep him from being bitten."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, we can also fight for the rights of all sentient magical beings and try to change public opinion and get rid of laws and policies that doom them to status as second-class citizens."

Tom pulled her into a hag. "You don't do anything by halves."

"The easiest way to make something right is to do the right thing in the first place. And that means keeping an eye on the boy and making certain he doesn't go out on full moon nights. And taking care of the laws as soon as we can."

They were reaching for more food when Hermione felt her locking spells being undone by a very familiar little witch.

Minerva McGonagall burst into the carriage wearing an absurd orange knitted hat with brown puffballs 'decorating' it. It looked like she had been attacked by dyspeptic beaver.

"Hermione, Tom, you have to help me."

Tom reached for the hat, to try to remove the cause of Minerva's obvious discomfort. (It had to be the hat).

She pulled it down over her ears with both hands. "Wait!" She put a surprisingly strong notice-me-not charm on the door, followed by a few locking spells that even Hermione had never seen.

"Minnie! What in Merlin's name is the matter?"

She looked at them with tear-filled eyes. "It just started happening! There's something wrong with my magic. I couldn't ask Mum to take me to St. Mungo's, not from Scotland. Can you imagine the expense with her not being able to do magic. So I just hid it."

"Hid what?"

She pulled off the cap slowly, tears still running down her face.

Perched on her head were two adorable little kitty ears.

"Oh!" Hermione rushed to hug her but Minnie covered her ears. "Not so loud! Everything is much too loud with these." She touched the ear lightly.

Hermione chuckled and raised her wand, forcing Minerva out of her partial transformation to animagus and causing her ears to reappear with their normal appearance and range.

"Thank you!" The girl hugged her fiercely.

"Don't thank me yet." Hermione felt her mouth from a grim little line. "We've got some serious work ahead of us. Makes me wish I'd broken into the Ministry and nicked a time turner."

"Why is that?" Tom was frowning.

"Because, she was partially transformed into her animagus form. Without effort. She's going to have to learn to transform on purpose and quickly so she can control it. Otherwise, she might end up with a tail whenever she sneezes." Hermione half-grinned down at the girl.

Minerva was shaking. "Please don't make fun like that."

"I'm not. I'm really not. It just reminds me, strongly, of something I did in second year. You see, I was working on polyjuice, which, I'm sure you know, is meant only for human transformations. When it came time to test the batch, it looked exactly as it should, so I put in the hair I had purloined for the purpose. I'd nicked it if the robe of the person I intended to change into. Unfortunately, she had a cat that just happened to have long hair the same shade as her own…and…"

Minerva half-gasped, half-laughed. "Oh no! However did you change back?"

Tom, sensing that this discussion would lead to Hermione telling some half-truths, decided to break in.. "She dealt with it. You know how Hermione is. But back to you. I suppose we could finish our own animagus training at the same time."

They had let that idea slip onto the backburner as the years passed and things got more and more complicated.

Hermione beamed at him.

She really had always wanted to make time to become one, and here was a perfect opportunity.

She sighed. "You'll need to go the Hospital Wing and report the ears though. The professors need to know that they have such a strong potential animagus on their hands."

Minerva looked befuddled. "What do you mean?"

Hermione frowned. "You weren't trying to transform,. Am I correct? It just happened?"

"Yes. I was sitting with a kitten on my lap, my da's barn cat just had them. And out popped a set of ears!"

"You magic is very responsive to transfiguration. Albus will be over the moon about it. But you'll need to register."

"What about you?"

Hermione grinned. "We will be keeping out forms a bit closer to the vest."

And despite her obvious curiosity, Minerva knew Hermione well enough not to ask what she meant by that.

 **ADADAD**

Albus sat at the Welcome feast and only managed his normal twinkling facade with great difficulty.

In his pocket, in script that was once as familiar as his own, sat a letter from Gellert Grindelwald. The words contained in the letter were so subtly persuasive, so very reasonable, that Albus forgave himself, just a bit, for falling for the man as a youth. Gellert always sounded reasonable, even when he was in the middle of doing terribly unreasonable things. The only time Albus had ever seen the true depth of the other man's insanity was during the fight that killed his sister.

Of course, there was no question of the adult Albus falling for the pretty lies that Gellert spun. The scales had been ripped off of his eyes forcefully, and though they had left scars, the fact still remained that he knew the true nature of the man and he would not fall victim to his wiles ever again.

He simple wanted to confer with Hermione and Tom about the best way to deal with the letter. Gellert had demanded that Albus join him or face the consequences…though of course he hadn't worded it quite like that.

Now they had either an opportunity or (much more likely) a complication.

He watched the new batch of children being sorted, and noticed Hermione's keen interest in a first year named Fenrir Greyback and how she grinned when a small boy named Moody was sorted into Hufflepuff.

The feast went quickly enough. The students gorged on the heavy meal and were quickly drowsy from their trip…exactly as they were every year, which was precisely what the staff had in mind. Full, sleepy children were less likely to get into mischief.

It was the easiest thing in the world to request a word with the head Boy and girl after Dippet toddled off. The man was becoming less and less attached to the world of reality as the years progressed. Soon he'd be as daft as old Merrythought.

He escorted the new Head Boy and Girl to his office while the prefects took the children to their respective houses.

He poured out cups of revitalizing tea and passed Tom the letter. They put their heads together and read at the same time. He took a moment to marvel at their sense of purpose. They often moved like two parts of the same body.

They looked up at him after a long moment, two sets of eyes waiting for him to say something.

"I wanted to discuss it with you because I think you would be safer if I were to attend Gellert's meetings."

Tom shook his head immediately. "I don't. I think it would be worse in general. As you said, he doesn't know how to play the gentleman for very long. With you, he's worse. He'd demand things from you that you wouldn't be willing to give."

Hermione seemed to consider and spoke slowly, as if she were afraid her solution might offend. "I think, ideally ,it would be best if you could look like you might join so he's forced to court you rather than jumping in and going to him physically."

Tom's eyes clouded. "Yes. Going physically would be bad."

Albus shuddered, a cold sweat beading his brow. His heart rate went up. The idea of facing Gellert when he could fight…couldn't get away…

He sucked in a strangled breath and Hermione put a warm hand over his. "Hey." She caught his chin. "You are fine. If you tell him to go screw himself, we'd still be fine. In fact, that should probably be your response."

Albus choked out a bit of laughter. "What, would you like to be assigned to assassinate me?" He was the adult, damn it. He was the one who should be comforting her, not the other way around.

She smirked at him playfully. "Don't be dull; he'd use his spy for that. No. I think that if we worded it correctly, you could buy us all more time. If he thinks that you are still just angry and hurt, it will force him to court you rather than try to dominate you. Cat and mouse is his favorite game. He'll be enthralled with the idea of regaining you. It will distract him and keep him from ordering your assassination. I'd call that a win."

Albus nodded. "Perhaps I can still bring him around if I phrase my letter correctly."

He didn't understand Hermione's look of pure sorrow. "You can always try."

 **TMRTMR**

Tom cast a quick spell to cloak their conversation as they walked down the halls. "Is there a reason you encouraged him to flirt with Gellert Grindlewald?"

"Two. Number one, it will actually distract him. And it will distract Gellert. Gellert was practically designed as a honey trap for Albus, but in the same vein, he was meant to be attracted to him as well."

Tom looked at her, intent on her plans, mind working so quickly that he couldn't follow without her knowing her was watching her thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"You saw my memory of when I was sent back. The dark is using seduction. Seduction only works well when it works both ways. Gellert was always meant to be attracted to everything Albus is so he could seduce Albus away from the light."

"And you think that Albus can turn the tables?"

She shrugged. "Who am I to judge? I know, deep down, he wants to. And the fewer souls the dark can call on as champions, the better the world will be."

Tom gripped her hand. "What do you mean?"

"They sent me back not because that version of you went dark, not because you killed so many, but because that you seduced so many who were not meant to be dark into darkness."

"A domino effect."

She gave him a warm, one-armed hug. "Yes. Loosing you might have doomed the world to darkness in one fell swoop. Future generations wouldn't have enough champions on the good side and there were so very many on the dark. So they sent me."

He pulled her into an alcove. "Do you regret coming?"

She smiled at him and ran fingers through his hair. "I am weary, stretched thin from too many memories of my last life and this one, but I don't regret a moment with you. And I never will. The fact that the dark was allowed to take you because there was no one for you to connect with is heartbreaking."

"You were meant for me. And if you are right, designed for me. The light isn't above setting honey traps either apparently." His tone was teasing, but his words were serious. She was perfect, absolutely everything he'd ever wanted. And he had her before he was old enough to know what desire was. A gift, a bribe from the side of light.

"It wasn't like that. I wasn't ordered to fall in love with you. Encouraged to love you, yes, but it could have been kind o f love. I might have loved you the way I loved Harry, as a brother. Or I could have easily felt as motherly toward you as I do toward Albus occasionally. But despite everything, that's not what I felt for you. And nothing and no one dictated that."

His mind softened and he smiled down at her, tangling his fingers in her curls. "And how do you feel about me, Miss Granger?"

She smirked up at him, an expression she'd stolen from Abraxas, that was both attractive and slightly disconcerting on her face. "Why don't you slip into my mind Tom Riddle, and take a look?"

Eyes widening at the offer, Tom pulled her into a nearby secret passage. She didn't have to ask him twice.


	75. Chapter 75

_**AN: Apologies for the delay. My old computer has been puttering about and threatening to go on strike for some time. I had to wait until my next check to get someone in to work on it. The prognosis isn't good. The computer needs to be replaced. In the meantime, I have a new chapter for you guys. It's a bit short, but I hope it entertains you for a few minutes. I am currently planning to update on next Sunday, but this patched up computer is precarious. *Fingers Crossed!***_

Hermione twirled a glass of wine in her fingers as Gellert laughed with his remaining generals about the impending attack on Ivanova's camp. She let the smug satisfaction she felt about the upcoming attack show on her face…just a bit. Let Gellert think it was for his upcoming 'victory' against the rebels in France and Belgium. She didn't know what kind of trap was being set for Gellert's men, but it must be excellent. She'd caught Edvard Olivander _humming_ the day before and chuckling to himself every few minutes in a totally unnatural display of good humor. It was frankly disturbing to see the dour man so fiercely happy.

Little Sophie was twelve years old and was proving a very good double agent. Hermione privately thought the child was far better at it than she herself was, but she didn't say things like that out loud; it wouldn't do anything beside allow certain members of the light to question her judgment further than they already _had_.

She had to fight to keep her expression neutral as the pudding was served to the inebriated dolts around her.

Albus Dumbledore was a twinkling, manipulative, self-centered pain in her arse.

The man insisted that Flitwick was the most likely spy among the professors at Hogwarts, despite Hermione's protestations to the contrary.

The man had actually challenged her to find the blasted spy herself if she wanted him to believe her.

 _Fat lot of good having a bloody seer would be to him anyway. He doesn't even listen when he thinks he has one. Did she have to do everything herself? It wasn't like she could just walk up to Gellert and claim that she'd like to invite his spy to tea. She needed a good reason to ask about the spy, or she'd put her entire cover in jeopardy._

Gellert reached over and refilled her glass with the indifferent red wine he was serving now that most of his guests were well and truly soused. Supplies were beginning to be an issue, even here in the heart of the empire. She'd heard that his men were passing out loaves of bread cut with sawdust to the populace, and selling the grain that should have gone into those loaves at a profit on the black market.

In the country, it was easy enough to have a pig or two in the woods for your family, and the local agents looked the other way. In the cities, milk was impossible to find. Soft white flour was practically a myth. Even the coarse rye flour sold at prices most families couldn't afford. Most people had grown carrots and potatoes in side yards and window boxes during spring and summer. As fall waned and winter crept in, even the hearty gardens were dying and the populace was already looking like a pack of wolves midwinter.

Everything the land could produce was going to feed the army. Everything.

If Gellert didn't conquer new lands with farms and fresh game and livestock soon, even the army would be slaughtering their horses for food over the winter.

Which was exactly the way Hermione wanted it. A hungry army was not a loyal army. Hungry soldiers deserted in the middle of battle. Hungry wizards didn't have as much power in their spells, and they couldn't concentrate to cast the spells nearly as well. Hungry soldiers disappeared on cold winters nights and ended up in brothels in Paris.

But for now, she plastered on her best sardonic grin and toasted her glass at Gellert. She should try to stumble down to find the common wine cellar tonight. With any luck, she could cast a mild spell to sour the wine and beer so that Gellert would have to replace it.

Every little bit helped.

"So… Albus wouldn't let Tom out of his sight."

Hermione shrugged. "He favors Tom."

Gellert smirked and took a long drink. "I bet he does. Such a pretty boy with a nice edge of darkness under those pretty curls. Just Albus' type. And mine for that matter."

She grinned fiercely and growled, "Mine."

Gellert's eyes twinkled in cruel merriment in an obscene mirror of Albus' signature look. She didn't want to know what he was planning so she twirled the Resurrection stone on her finger. "I need the cloak to sneak back into Hogwarts tonight."

"Leaving so soon?"

"Curfew. Yes I could sneak around it, but the less I do, the less anyone will suspect. I still have roommates you know, and it won't do for them to show signs of mental tampering too often." Though honestly, she wasn't entirely certain anyone would notice. The Goyle twins of this generation were very pretty girls, but they were as thick as the version that had backed up Draco Malfoy in her former life.

"Unfortunately, the Head Boy and Girl do not have separate quarters in Hogwarts." She had a cupboard-sized office, but she would have dearly loved a bedroom where she and Tom could sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Gellert shrugged and tossed her a key, slightly drunk and long since bored with the famed Deathly Hallows…like a child that had whined and begged and pleaded for a toy, only to grow disenchanted with it within five minutes of opening the package. "Try not to get caught with it."

Hermione found her way out of the dining hall, and quickly went to Gellert's study. His guards watched her, but didn't interfere. She quickly gathered the cloak and shoved it into her extendable bag. She didn't really need it. She just wanted it out of his hands if she had to show her true colors soon.

Tom was under a deep dreamless sleep potion. She'd strong-armed him into taking it earlier in the evening because he'd already nearly worked himself into exhaustion and the term was only a week old.

Garret Olivander had conceded defeat. There was no easy way to make Tom's fantastic shield cloaks. The only way to make them was with complicated brute force magics. Essentially, if one were powerful enough to make the cloak, having one was of only minimal use. Unless of course your goal was to protect other people.

Tom was working every hour that God put into the day to make enough for the very front lines if it came to an invasion while trying to keep up with the appearances of being Head Boy.

Hermione sighed as she activated her portkey and appeared at her room at the Three Broomsticks.

Tom would not be happy with her.

And that was the understatement of the century.

Even though everything had gone rather swimmingly, and it probably wouldn't have if she had gone with Tom.

Gellert had sent word for her to come because he wanted to gloat about the letter he'd received from Albus.

Albus had railed, called him several foul names, and had more than implied that his family tree consisted of creatures that were highly improbable, even with magic.

Gellert had grinned like the maniac he was all the way though dinner.

He'd obviously been pleased that Albus was speaking to him at all.

He'd called Hermione to his side at one point and mentioned that he was going to be making a play for Albus, and that she should aid the endeavor when she saw the opportunity. His spy would take charge of delivering gifts, but she was to report every twitch of his lips and every time his cheek colored.

"Like they are bloody well still in short pants." She grumbled as she made her way back from Hogsmead. It was late and she still needed to do her own meditation when it came to her animagus form. At this stage she didn't dare skip the meditation for even a night. Minerva was frighteningly quick and had almost made a full transformation already. Tom wasn't far behind. She was doing well enough, but that was hardly the standard that she expected of herself.

She called out softly as she neared the gate of Hogwarts. She had informed Albus before she left, and she saw a flash of flame that meant that Fawks had flown the older man out of a window somewhere so that he could get to her expeditiously. "Sorry for the wait my dear. I was cornered by Professor Flitwick earlier this evening and it took dosing his tea to get away."

Albus quickly smuggled her through the gate. She could have disillusioned herself of course, but she chose to wrap the cloak around her body. The energy of it hugged her frame like an old friend. The cloak had always been Harry's of course…but it seemed to work for her the way it was intended.

Tom was waiting for her in the corridor outside the common room. She frowned. "You should still be asleep."

"I only took half a dose." He held her face. "Did you know you were leaving before you dosed me?"

She opened her mind to him and let him see the truth.

Tom pulled out and ran his fingers through his perfect curls. They went straight back into place like well-trained hounds.

Which actually had to be some kind of heretofore-unexplained magical gift. Whose hair was always perfect? It was just abnormal.

Tom's lips quirked as he pulled out of her mind. "I'm hardly perfect."

"But your hair has been for the past seven years. Even when we're swimming it stays in place."

His eyes took on a faraway look and he smiled down at her. "I have a soft spot for wild curls myself."

With that, he tossed the cloak over both of them, pulled her into a handy alcove and began one of the most through snogs of her entire existence. He started with her lips, but quickly moved to her neck. It was a good thing she was a dab hand with spells. She had a feeling her neck was going to show evidence of this little romp…it was a fine thing for a head girl to have love bites on her neck…

Tom stilled as someone came down the hall. He went from amorous to holding his wand at the ready in less than a second. Hermione's own wand joined his, but she gloated slightly in her mind. He truly was exceptional. Reflexes and power combined with fierce intelligence….it made him a formidable duelist.

Hermione forced herself to pay attention when quiet words reached her ears. "No. No. No." The form was clearly panting under the powerful disillusionment charm; only a faint outline was visible. "No, I won't. I won't and you can't make me." A sound, like a muffled call on a mirror, and more whimpering. "No." The voice was pitiful, but wavering. A sharp tone from the hand mirror and the slight outline of the disillusioned form began to move, ever so slowly toward the headmaster's quarters.

Hermione drew her wand but Tom caught her wrist. She dipped into his mind and saw that he wanted to follow.

She caught his hand, and together, they began to follow the shape lumbering unwillingly down the corridor.


	76. Chapter 76

**_AN: To all of those well-wishers regarding my computer woes…good news! I was able to purchase a refurbished laptop from my company. It'll take a lot of work to get everything loaded and arranged properly on it, but it won't be in danger of deleting all of my files either. It's a huge load off my mind to have something reliable to work on._**

 ** _And now…back to our intrepid mystery-solving teens and the vague form they were following last week…_**

Hermione and Tom followed the form as it stumbled unwillingly toward Dippet's office.

The muttering ahead of them led the way despite the person's disillusionment charm…right up until the point where the spy disappeared.

Tom cursed as he looked around for secret tunnels with every revealing spell he knew.

Hermione eventually stilled his wand. "Leave it for tonight."

Tom looked up, stricken. "But the spy could be…"

She gave him a little grin. "I think I know who the spy is. We'll know for certain by dinner tomorrow."

Tom raised a brow as she smiled like a cat that got into the cream. "And how do you know that?"

She smiled sweetly. "We're going to set a trap of course."

 **TMRTMR**

Hermione wouldn't share whatever had tipped her off about the spy. He had to spend the next day in classes, appearing to be the perfect Head Boy, while she kept that thrice-blasted self-satisfied smiled on her face.

Abraxas pulled him into an alcove while Hermione was in the loo.

"Damn it Malfoy…"

The blond grinned. "Easy Tom. It's not pleasure, it's business."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'll try to remember that next time someone is pulling me into an alcove with no warning. I nearly hexed you into dust."

"Which is why I'm wearing that handy cloak you made for me."

"Do you have a reason for accosting me or did you just want to snuggle?" Abraxas finally noticed that the alcove was a tad tight, but he snickered and gave Tom a bit more room.

"You know very well that I'd rather snuggle with your witch than with you."

"And I've told you over and over to find your own witch."

"And I've done so with great regularity of late."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Tipping the skirts of bored society wives is not the same thing."

Abraxas shrugged one shoulder, obviously stung. "It's as close as a married Malfoy can get. It's not like I could court another witch while I'm still married."

Tom grinned. "I don't see why not. Helga would hardly object. And this way you could find someone who was outside the limited inbred lot you are expected to marry."

"You do know that I didn't go to the trouble finding you to get a sixteen year old wizard's opinion about my love life, right?"

Tom peeked around the alcove under a strong notice-me-not charm. "I'm not judging." He looked again. "But I do have limited time until my next class, so…."

Abraxas sighed. "Fine. Tell Hermione that everything is ready for tonight. She asked me to handle some things."

"Why did that message necessitate pulling me into an alcove?"

"Because you keep telling me to keep my hands off your witch of course." Abraxas did a quick non-verbal spell so that his robes fell perfectly, and added another to his hair.

Tom leaned against the far side of the alcove. "All that primping isn't making this feel less like a tryst, and I'll have you know that Hermione is very possessive."

The older blonde chuckled darkly. "True. It's not every witch that is. Just pass along my message. I need to get to my class. I'm teaching first year Huffelpuffs to fly in a few moments and I don't want to be late. It's shocking how much trouble those cute little badgers can get into…even on substandard school brooms."

Hermione appeared a bare moment after Abraxas made his way down the hall.

She took one look at Tom and quirked an eyebrow. "What did Abraxas say this time?"

 **ADADAD**

Albus was not happy in the least when Hermione had sent him a message late the night before. He'd been in the middle of…things and very few subjects would have taken his mind away from those particular subjects at the time.

Hermione mentioning that she'd actually seen the outline of the spy and that that she had a plan to capture said spy was one of those (very few) subjects.

Thus he was both excited and rather ill-tempered as his day progressed. He took nearly thirty points away from his own house when the second years were horsing around during Transfiguration, and only Minerva McGonagall escaped detention with Ogg in his sixth year class. (Minerva, who did nothing wrong, was actually assigned detention with himself. He had a feeling that she was experimenting with an animagus form and he wanted time to ferret out the facts. His general bad humor was at least a good reason to assign a needful detention with a student who hadn't earned it.)

As the great hall filled for dinner, Albus watched Hermione from behind his half-moon spectacles as he chatted lightly with Abraxas Malfoy. The young blond generally took his meals at his home, preferring to spend the evening hours with his young son. His particular schedule was allowed because he donated his entire salary back to the school each quarter.

But he was here tonight, and under all that charm and cultured grace, he was watching the room carefully.

Hermione was at the Slythern table, eating roast and pumpkin juice as Tom Riddle watched her from the corner of his eye.

Albus tried not to smirk. It was nice to know that everyone had the same issue with Hermione as he did. The witch was brilliant, yes; but a wee bit unpredictable as well. I made life…interesting.

Hermione suddenly looked up at him from her pudding, her face full of mischief.

Merlin help him. Perhaps he should consider retiring. He was a bit young for it at only seventy, but he had enough gold stockpiled so that he could find a small cottage and live well enough…and if he couldn't afford the latest gadgets and volumes on his pension, it might just lead to him discovering that 13th use of dragon's blood that Hermione mentioned sometime ago.

As the younger students were getting up to make their way from the Great Hall, a spell raced through the entire place, shattering glass as it went. A shriek was heard from the head table. Albus rushed over to the most unlikely subject…Professor Merrythought.

As the other students grumbled loudly about pranks, Professor Merrythought was lowered to the floor. Their attention turned from the mirrors to the aging professor and Albus stood. "Just a bit of a fright for the Professor. Go on to your dorms."

Professor Dippet was moments away from a full-blown panic attack, judging by the way he was wringing his hands. Albus took the man's arm in a tight grip. "We will take Professor Merrythought to the hospital wing Sir. Please stay here."

"But I…"

"Flitwick." The little professor raised a brow. "Please make certain Professor Dippet doesn't interfere. He means well but…"

"Sometimes relatives and loved ones are trouble in the hospital wing. I understand sir. Please go and help the professor. I'll keep Headmaster Dippet company." Albus nodded gratefully. Tom and Hermione were already on their way to Merrythought, who was not being taken to the hospital wing. Then again, no one really needed to know that she was suffering from the mirror spell rebounding. Now they just had to remove the Imperious curse.

 **HJGHJG**

Abraxas huffed as he arranged Merrythought on a sturdy chair. "Do you have a way to break her out of the Imperious curse?"

Hermione nodded as Abraxas secured the woman's hands and legs with ropes. There was a chance that her magic would act alone and negate magical bindings if the process went badly.

Albus entered, having dealt with Dippet. For a married man, the old headmaster was quite partial to Professor Merrythought.

Albus looked down at the professor with a certain amount of guilt. It wasn't hard to see that he blamed himself for any actions Gellert took to coheres those around him. "It would be best if she could fight it herself since Gellert no longer has access to the mirror to refresh the spell."

Hermione grinned. "Don't you see? She has been fighting it. That's why she's been acting so dotty the past few years. Whenever she was fairly lucid-looking she was completely under the spell. Whenever she was humming or talking in circles like she had dementia, she was fighting the curse. It probably made her less useful as a spy than Gellert supposes."

Hermione performed a complicated set of spells that were reported to lessen the influence of the imperio. There wasn't a spell or a cure to lift the insidious thing entirely. That was why it was one of the unforgivables. The Imperius spell could act like a waiting time bomb in a witch or wizard's head. Throwing it off took one simple thing: the victim had to want to resist more than the perpetrator wanted them to do a thing. One never knew if the curse was removed or simply inactive.

The old professor coughed and looked up. "You finally figured it out eh? Took you long enough. Merlin knows I left enough clues. Where in the name of Circe would a witch like myself learn God Save the Queen!?"

Tom and Hermione exchanged a slightly exasperated look and Hermione offered the old witch a glass of water, but didn't offer to remove the bonds. She simply levitated it toward her lips and carefully tipped it so she could sip the cool fluid easily. She didn't intend to take chances with someone under that particular curse. Not after Captain Smith ended his life in an attempt to kill her. She felt the little snake move restlessly around her throat. She would hate for the innocent professor to suffer the same fate.

There was little she could do to verify that the effects of the imperius had truly dissipated.

The old woman nodded, following Hermione's thoughts easily. "You'll have to send me away of course. Somewhere safe. No contact. No magic. At least until you manage to remove the little bastard from power. And Albus, dear, I know that you are busy wallowing in your long lost love affair, but do pick up the pace, won't you?" The old woman gave them a wan smile.

Albus took her shrunken hands in each of his own and kissed her wrinkled forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize it before. We've known each other for so long..."

"Don't be a nincompoop boy. You and I have worked in the same school for thirty odd years. It's not the same thing as knowing another person, and it never will be. I've spent double that with that old fool Dippet and he…well…he's an old fool twice over. Keep that in mind when you deal with him. You won't have me around to soften him up or keep him from embarrassing himself or the school. Do whatever it takes to make the man retire after this year. I have a recipe for a faux-heart attack potion in my rooms. Use it to make him think he strain of running the school is going to kill him if he doesn't retire. Now, be a dear and forge a note from me. I don't want to risk my hands being free around any or all of you, even without a wand…"

 **TMRTMR**

In the end, Albus managed to send Professor Merrythought to Nicholas and Perenelle in New Orleans; though, it must be admitted that the portkey he used was anything but strictly legal.

Abraxas sighed as the Professor disappeared. "The Flamels will take good care of her and distance can only help the matter of the curse…but what are we going to tell Dippet? And who is going to teach Defense? I doubt we can get a professor to fill in…"

"We could easily find someone, but I think, in light of the possible war on the horizon, I may have to imply in Merrythought's letter that her absence is intended to be a short one. Perhaps our Head Boy and Girl could take a third of the classes and I shall take the remaining sixth and seventh years in my own free periods."

Abraxas shook his head. "You should spread the workload more than that. I'll take the first years. Flitwick can probably work in the second years, the man was a dueling champion after all. Kettlebaum should take the third years since that's mostly about dark creatures in any case. Tom should take the fourth years, and Hermione can get the little tykes ready for their OWLs. Let Hermione and Tom take the sixth years together. That way they'll only miss two classes a day each."

Albus turned and contemplated Tom and Hermione. "Can the two of you keep up on your own work with the extra load?"

Tom gave Albus an incredulous look until he realized the man was teasing. "Do you think Dippet will allow it?"

Albus shrugged. "Probably. The professors are salaried, and the two of you are students. It will mean he can save quite a few galleons."


	77. Chapter 77

_**AN: Happy Sunday! It's probably time again to say 'thank you' to everyone who reviews/favs/follows this monster. I know the Tomione fandom is a bit smaller than some, but the outpouring of excitement over this story is humbling. I know I owe some of you nice long thank you letters, but please take this note in the meantime. Your reviews remind me why I keep working on this story week after week. I'll see you next Sunday. 'Til then, have a great one, and stay completely fabulous!**_

Albus turned a lovely shade of puce as Hermione tried to hide a grin. "You have _what_?"

Hermione thought, fairly irreverently, that he'd probably take the news of their impending animagus status fairly well after Tom finished with this.

After all, what could be worse than a basilisk in the basement?

Tom was enjoying telling him a bit more than he should though. No reason to give Albus some kind of fit . She nudged him with her elbow lightly (robes covered that kind of thing wonderfully) and Tom finally finished dropping his bomb on their normally unflappable deputy headmaster.

"Salazar Slytherin left a basilisk down in the basement. He called her Little Mari. Hermione and I think that he left her to defend the school but he never thought that it would be so long before the muggles overran it…probably why he opposed the idea of Muggleborns in the first place. In any case, Little Mari is now quite large and keeping her fed is a bit of an issue. I've been buying chickens from Hagrid for a bit, trying to feed her up so we can get her out of the school."

Albus sat down. "Merlin. As if we didn't have a million things going on!"

Hermione stepped in. "Yes well, we all hope that the war ends in our favor, but if it does not, we don't dare leave a huge snake in the school. She's generally a gentle creature, but who knows what she might do if she was hungry enough. We need to get her to an appropriate place now, before we all go to war." The unspoken 'just in case' was lost on none of them. Albus' skin turned pale.

"We'll have to find…"

Hermione held up a hand. "Already done. We've negotiated with a under-funded unicorn preserve in France . They can't afford to hire wizards to guard the flock, but they can very well afford chickens. Mari will make her territory around the outskirts of the preserve and she can hunt anything that crosses her path. We have some special goggles for her that will soften her killing stare into a prettification. That way unwary can simply be revived."

Tom grinned. "She doesn't mind hunting with the petrifaction instead either. Says it makes the prey 'crunchy'."

"It seems the two of you have everything worked out." Albus looked slightly put-out that he hadn't gotten to be in on any of the plotting.

Hermione decided that she'd throw him a bone. The man did love his clever plots. "Not everything. We still have to find a way to take a five ton snake who can petrify people all the way to France."

Albus looked positively gleeful.

Hermione couldn't help but think that his own love of clever solutions had probably been one of the reasons he loved Harry so well. He did like it when witches and wizards thought outside the box.

Still, he didn't even pause when asked to provide impossible transport into a war zone.

"I'm certain we can come up with something."

 **TMRTMR**

"Something" turned out to be five flying phoenixes and a very large crate.

Dumbledore shrugged. "It's how I smuggled myself into France when I was trying to spy, except of course, Fawks could carry me and a crate with no trouble at all. We probably could have done the job with four of them, but between you and I , think my bird has an eye on that rather lovely specimen to the right, the female with the light gold feathers in her wings. In any case, the basilisk can't kill them with a glare obviously, but we'd much prefer if she keep her eyes closed until we get her into the crate."

Little Mari was practically vibrating with excitement…and perhaps with the thought of all that chicken. Tom knew fondly that near starvation had made her into just a tiny bit of a glutton. He ran his fingers over her scales and hissed, " _I'll miss you_."

She nudged him lightly with her head, baleful eyes shut tight. " _I'll miss you as well. You will come visit once the war is over._ "

" _As often as I can_."

" _Good. Speaking with other snakes is a fine thing, but speaking with you is better, I think_."

Tom scratched the ridge over her eye delicately. She was just beginning to flake away tiny bits of dead skin in preparation for her next shedding season.

Then she slithered into the crate and coiled herself tightly. There wasn't much room, but Tom could tell she intended to sleep the three or four hours it would take the magical birds to fly to France.

He put one hand outside the crate as Albus magically attached the lid, and then, with some un-heard signal, the phoenixes took flight. And little Mari, the oldest living inhabitant of Hogwarts, was quickly gone.

 **HJGHJG**

It was shocking, sometimes how alike Gellert and Albus really were.

"They did _what_?"

She shrugged. "I'll be teaching the fifth years Defense and Tom will be teaching the fourth years. We'll take the sixth years together."

"What happened to Merrythought?"

"Albus said it looked like she'd had some kind of fit. Everyone knows she's been dotty for ages."

Gellert pinched his nose. "She wasn't dotty. She was under my Imperious Curse."

Hermione let her eyes widen in surprise. In truth, she was surprised that he told them, but he'd take it as shock that old Merrythought was the spy.

"How long?"

"Nearly ten years. I knew I would need someone close to Albus so I caught her one summer's evening in Prague. I tried to get his dratted brother as well, but the man is too thick to be cursed. Not enough mind to work with."

Hermione let herself smirk at that while mentally congratulating Aberforth on resisting…but why hadn't the man mentioned it to Albus?

"Now I'll have to go to the bother of finding and cursing another member of the staff."

"Why?" She knew she _looked_ a little board, sipping the fine tea she'd brought along…there was little left in Geller's stores besides the most common blends. The food shortages were going to force his hand sooner rather than later. "Wouldn't it be easier to rely in Tom and myself inside Hogwarts?"

"I'd rather not leave either of you inside for the duration of a siege my dear. No, I just need to find some shallow fool and curse them. Any ideas?"

She tried to think of someone who would resist. Failing, she sighed. "I'd say that Dippett is the obvious choice, but he's having heart pains and will undoubtedly be replaced at the end of term. Perhaps the groundskeeper?"

"He's half troll, the curse is meant for humans."

"That leaves out Flitwick too then. And say what you will about Slughorn, the man is more powerful than he lets on. The students wouldn't give you enough flexibility… "

"I'd take a student as the court of last resort. The Merlin-cursed curfew would make it difficult."

"I suppose you could try the new Divination teacher."

"Who is she?"

"Professor Frostmein. I don't know much about her." That part wasn't a lie. Hermione had cut out Divination as soon as she'd been allowed. What she did know about Professor Frostmien was that the woman was a former German Auror and good friend to Albus. With any luck, the good frau would disembowel anyone who tried to put her under any curse.

 **TMRTMR**

The first time Minerva McGonagall transformed into a very pretty little tabby was the first time Tom Riddle could remember being jealous of anyone's magic in a very long time. She was a natural. In less than a month of practice, Hermione had given her the self-confidence to finish the transformation.

She was beautiful.

Not either physical form so much (though she was shaping up to be a lovely young woman) but the magic involved was beautiful. If asked, it would have been hard to describe, but he thought it must be like watching an opera virtuoso have the performance of a lifetime. Breathtaking, and a little humbling.

It also galvanized his desire to have that magic for himself. He'd caught hints of course, that he was close, but his studies and thrice-blasted Gellert Grindelwald had kept him from achieving this sort of transformation before.

Having seen Minerva's joy in it, he knew he wouldn't put it on the backburner any longer.

He caught Hermione's eye after the first rush of congratulations and hugs, and then more changing…he saw the same desire in her eyes as well.

It wasn't surprising. Knowledge was a kind of greed for both of them. They enjoyed learning as some enjoyed the hunt.

He grinned at Hermione as they went back to their meditation as Minerva went to show her accomplishment to Albus.

The hunt was on.


	78. Chapter 78

_**AN: Sorry guys. This is terribly short. My must got a little focused on this particular bit of the chapter (sometimes she has a one-track mind) and well…what can you do? I'll start writing for next week tomorrow and try to make it up with a nice long chapter then. See you all next Sunday!**_

Tom cursed lightly as the rebound from the animagus spell sizzled across his nose. He slammed his fist into the mat below him; then he sprung to his feet and paced. "Bleeding touchy-feely nonsense! Give me something with arithmancy that makes sense any day of the week!"

Hermione opened one eye from her own corner of the room of requirement (which looked suspiciously like a dojo at the moment).

"You are trying too hard. You can't power your way through an animagus transformation. You have to relax and let it come."

He grumbled nearly inaudibly, "Which is why most wizards with sense don't bloody well do it."

Hermione shrugged. "You can quit any time Tom."

Tom grumbled but he slid back down on the mat in the modified lotus position that Hermione had taught him years before. "And let you be the only one? Not likely. With my luck you'd go off and do something heroic and get yourself killed."

She grinned with her eyes closed. He hadn't let her live down the fact that she'd been a Gryffindor in her past life since she'd admitted it one evening. She was still a bit miffed because he'd mutter 'that explains so much.'

Slytherins.

She could tell they were close to their own transformations.

She could feel the magic coiled beneath her…not under her skin so much, as deep within her bones. The animal form wanted to come out, but transforming without a wand was tricky: they both had more than enough power to do so…even more than enough control. Something else was missing.

She thought she knew what it might be.

"I talked to Minerva about her transformation."

Tom sighed and opened his eyes. "And what did our favorite tabby have to say?"

She shot him a look for calling Minerva a 'tabby' but didn't say anything. Tom wasn't used to coming in second in any type of magic. Being graceful under that kind of duress was a learned behavior for over-achievers.

"She said that it was like trying to stop the ocean. The first changes practically overpowered her."

Tom grimaced. "I feeling somewhat underwhelmed by that bit of information. This isn't overpowering me by any means."

"But Minerva is…younger than we are. In many ways." She chewed thoughtfully on her lip for a moment. "DO you think that the problem is not that we need more control, but that we need less?"

Tom looked intrigued. "Assuming you are right…how would one go about having less control? Alcohol? Potions?"

She shook her head. "Not even with a sober-up potion sitting right next to me just in case. Tricky spells and alcohol don't mix well."

Tom leaned back and studied the plain ceiling for the room for a long moment. "I suppose we might find it easier with an adrenalin rush."

She felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "A hard, fast, no-hold-barred duel?"

Tom rolled to one arm and smirked as his eyes darkened. "Something hard and fast, but not a duel."

"Tom, I don't think…" She huffed as he pounced on her and rolled them both over the mats.

He was kissing her neck with enough focus to please the hardest task-master (assuming that there was a taskmaster interested in teaching wizards the art of making a witch go crazy). She rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her robes, allowing him more access to her neck. She was wearing a uniform beneath, but she'd left the tie in her dorm. He murmured his approval and took his own robes off so quickly that she suspected that he used wandless magic.

She wound her fingers in his hair, panting slightly as his lips brushed tiny bundles of nerves on her neck and ears. It was no more than any teen indulged in and yet…she felt her body's reaction, and it was not in any way opposed to taking their exploration further.

Meditation completely forgotten, she snaked her legs around his thighs, uncaring that her uniform skirt rode up. There was no one but Tom to see after all, and Tom (judging by his slightly gob smacked expression) didn't mind. She used his distraction to flip their positions so that she was on top.

Tom moaned a little as she pressed against him. "You'll be the death of me yet, Hermione."

She grinned and kissed his lips with no remorse at all. "Say it again."

He looked slightly confused. "That you'll be the death of me?"

She nipped the smooth skin at his throat and murmured, "My name. Say my name."

Tom grinned and wrapped his large hands around her hips. "As my lady wills it. Hermione." He sat up enough to pres a soft kiss against her collar bone. "Hermione." He nuzzled her neck, tracing it with his tongue. "Hermione."

Then, as she was distracted, he filliped her back under him and grinned like an errant schoolboy (which he technically was).

And that tiny rush of adrenalin did it. As she felt her back impact the mat, her form began to change.

Tom looked absolutely stunned as fangs emerged in her mouth and her eyes dilated to slits instead of pinpricks.

And then his own change took him.

 **TMRTMR**

As much as he'd wanted to become an animagus, he would have rather the whole matter had waited an hour…or two…longer.

He raised his head, strange muscles working on an instinctive level, which was just as well. He couldn't consciously imagine being able to control the body of a lion.

He was six feet and a bit, much like his near-adult body in his human form. He could feel the powerful muscles in his legs, the length of his sheathed claws.

He turned to see Hermione and was not surprised at the source of all those fangs. She had a mouth full of them, and sharp claws as well.

One would think, being a Gryffindor in her last life, being a lion would be rather clichéd. And yet…

She moved with sinuous grace as she padded around the room; jumping, clawing, ripping, tearing…obviously getting a feel for her new body. She walked past him and her tail ran the length of his muzzle…almost accidentally. But the coy look she gave him over her shoulder left him growling.

He walked around her slightly smaller form; they were better matched for size than they were in their human forms. He suspected that while she was a fully mature lioness, that his lion's body was just barely adult. He'd add bulk and power through the years.

Hermione rubbed her head along his jaw, and then stepped back.

Watching an animagus transform was not a comfortable thing when one loved said animagus. It didn't look like it hurt, precisely. But the transformation hardly looked comfortable. Minerva's had been much smoother.

She ran her human hand through his mane, scratching his head in ways that made him want to purr.

"Tom?" He felt his own shape change.

Then he pulled her into his arms for a long, deep kiss.

He looked down into her eyes and kissed her softly. Then he teased, "I propose using this method every time we can't solve a magical problem."

She giggled in his arms and tossed her head back so that her hair seemed to float behind her. "We'd never get anything done."

He nipped her throat once more. "I could live with that."


	79. Chapter 79

_**AN: I'm afraid I have a confession to make. I didn't intend for Tom and Hermione originally to both be lions. I thought it would be nice to symbolize that different personalities can and should work together. Hermione was always going to be feline, but Tom was going to turn into a snake. BUT THEN….I started trying to write the scene and Tom kept being physically affectionate with Hermione in animagus form and it squicked the heck out of me. I realized that Tom wasn't going to stop (because he's Tom) and that I'd have to write all those scenes as I wrap up the story…I tried several other forms for him, but him being a smaller cat (even a tiger) didn't suit him (finicky git). So if you think that the heir of Slytherin being a lion under the skin is an odd choice, don't blame me. It's Tom's fault.**_

 _ **NOTE: There are a couple of unidentified quotes in here from Much Ado About Nothing. I cut a few lines where they discussed the play earlier in the chapter, but left the quotes.**_

Abraxas huddled in his cloak as the dark pine trees above his head rocked to and fro in the wind. The rain dripped down his cloak (the one Tom had gifted him). It kept the rain at bay.

He didn't hear the slight pop as his great-grandmother appeared. Instead, he saw a dim light from a lantern hovering beside her and her wandtip pointed directly at him.

He nodded and adjusted his own wand out of her line of sight.

She smirked. "You need to watch your shoulders when you do that boy. They give you away, even under a cloak."

He grinned at her but kept the wand in place.

She smirked at him and asked, "When you were eight years old you sent me an owl on your birthday. What were you asking for?"

Abraxas snorted. "I wanted a thestral. Can you tell me why?"

She lowered her wand and motioned him forward. "Because they scared the piss out of that piece of excrement you called a father. Unfortunately, thestrals don't like living in little boy's rooms, no matter how large those rooms are…so I sent you a toy thestral that made an illusion of one every time you squeezed it in a certain pattern. You mother told me you had a great deal of fun with it until she found out and pried it away from you."

Abraxas tossed her a bag with several months worth of food for her people and cast a complicated ward. "Mother was afraid he'd kill me if he ever found out that I was the one who had been 'haunting' him. Thankfully, he was drinking so much absinth during that period that she had him fairly convinced that he'd hallucinated the whole thing."

Ivanova sighed. "I never should have allowed my granddaughter to marry him. I should have accompanied them to England."

Abraxas shrugged. "I'm rather glad to be alive honestly."

She laughed. "Your soul was meant for this time." With that, she moved to the side and removed a spell to reveal the young spy….Sophie.

Abraxas looked down on the child and conjured them all comfy camp chair and lit a small fire. His great-grandmother frowned at the light but he shrugged. "The wards are up. We should be fine for half an hour. I assumed you wanted her to tell me about the recent defeat of a number of Grindlewald's men." He turned to the girl and gave her his best charming smile. "I understand that you were very brave."

The child looked at him with eyes far too old to be twelve, despite the fact that she looked more like ten. She glanced at the older witch, who gave her a rough, one-armed hug that seemed to still her fears. Then she seemed to draw herself in and began her report like a seasoned veteran.

"Grindlewald planned to have me take his men into our main camp. He never guessed that I might be a double agent…or really anything but a terrified child that he intended to dispose of in due time." Her mouth pulled into a hard ling as she thought about the dictator. "It all went off perfectly. He sent me an anchor for a large portkey. I buried it just outside the wards of one of the vampire colonies and suggested that two in the morning would be the best time to attack. From what I heard outside, it wasn't much of a battle."

"All of them died?"

"They weren't even able to get a message off." There was something slightly disturbing about the look of righteous vengeance on the child's face….but he hadn't lived her life so he tried not to judge. He knew from reports what Grindlewald's men were capable of. He knew it was cowardly, but he didn't want to know what the child in front of him had endured to give rise to the young valkarie he saw nestled behind her eyes. There was a reason why so many of the deities of vengeance were female in mythology.

His grandmother sniffed. "I don't want to put the child at risk. I took the mirror and pretended to examine it. We had Sophie pose under an illusion that made her appear torn apart and several hours dead. Then I made a show of smashing it and calling a tiny bit of fiend fire to destroy it entirely. He should be able to see what the mirror saw if he used the spell I suspect he did."

Abraxas whistled. "He'll know how you destroyed it at least?"

She smiled like a barracuda. "Almost certainly. It sends the right kind of message."

Abraxas smirked as he considered the fact that fiend fire destroyed the object completely and utterly, leaving no trace. "Yes, yes it does."

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert sat panting in the middle of what looked like a battlefield.

In a way it was. The remnants of his own battle to control his rage when he learned that somehow that she-bitch Ivanova had out-foxed him again.

His throne room was a long, open pile of rubble. Bits of the ceiling were dangling precariously. He looked around for Sergei, realizing with a frown that his most trusted lieutenant was dead.

He waved his wand and the dust and rock were removed from his person, but he made no effort to clean up anything except himself and his throne.

Then he summoned Lestrange.

She was pregnant again, sure this child would be the girl she'd hoped for. Sure too that the child was his, though he knew for a fact that it was not. He'd taken…precautions in that arena since had no wish to inflict her madness on his offspring.

She went down on her knees gracefully, despite her protruding belly.

"Tell General Villanova I want the troops to be ready to attack England right after the first of the year. Send parties north to raid in Russia so that the country doesn't run out of supplies in the meantime. Squeeze as much out of France as we can." He tightened his fingers over the arms of his chair. "Tell him that we are going to ignore Ivanova for the moment. Pull the guards that we've had chasing her back into the regular troupes and put everything we have into pushing forward."

"But my lord…"

He kept himself from slapping her by sheer force of will. "Are you questioning my judgment? Don't you think that I want her head on my mantle for killing so many of my men, for defying me?" He held himself in the throne. He didn't know what he would do to the woman if he stood up, and Hermione had mentioned that she had two sons in her visions.

She bowed her head and got awkwardly to her feet. "Never my lord." The fervent loyalty in her words only served to irritate him further, but he waved her away. There were too few loyal people left for him to kill any simply because they annoyed him.

He summoned a writing desk and wrote several letters quickly. Things were not going well on the front, and he was losing pieces in the game far too quickly. He needed to consolidate his forces and move in quickly, like a snake.

He walked out of the throne room and shoved the pile of letters into the hand of his nearest guard. "Send these. And have someone go in and clean up the throne room. It's a bit of a mess."

As the man's eyes widened at the destruction of the room, Gellert walked off with a spring in his step.

 **ADADAD**

Albus perched in one of the squishy, oversized arm chairs in his cozy sitting room. It wasn't generally done to have students in one's private quarters, but he doubted that anyone had seen Tom and Hermione. And he'd needed to speak with them as soon as he'd read the letter.

Hermione held the thick parchment in her hands, and Tom read over her shoulder, bodies nearly touching. He cleared his throat and two pair of dark eyes looked up at him.

"You need to watch your body language. When you are doing mundane things the two of you look like lovers."

Tom's eyes cracked with anger. Albus held up a hand. "I wanted you to be aware. I don't want Gellert to see what I saw."

Hermione sighed, but didn't move. "Let him see it. I've told him many times that Tom is mine. I'm valuable enough to him now that he won't hurt either of us, because if he hurts Tom he loses all leverage over me."

Tom nodded as he wrapped a long arm around Hermione's waist; Albus shifted uncomfortably, feeling for a moment like an unwilling voyeur. What they are, what they are about to become was there for anyone to see. It was beautiful. And it was damned inconvenient that it was happening when he needed them to be at the top of their game against Grindelwald. "His hold over the army is the weakest it has ever been. Supplies have been difficult to obtain. If he harmed his heir, or worse did something violent and she simply publically abandoned him….it would knock down one of the supports for his rule. He can't afford that until he invades England. Once our wealth starts flowing to his people, he'll have a firm grip on power once again. And if we really were traitors instead of spies, we would be signing away our lives."

Albus nodded and indicated the letter. "What do you think of his proposal?"

Tom and Hermione looked at him like he was mad. Tom sputtered, "It's a trap. If he can remove you…"

Hermione finished his sentence. "Then he knows that England will fall to him. It's not just your personal power. It's the fact that you are the only one with the connections to put together a defense. The Ministry certainly can't."

Albus nodded. "The Ministry is going to need overhauling. But that's an issue for another day. Once Grindlewald is gone, Edvard can return to the Aurors. That alone will help."

Albus took a drink and eyed the pair narrowly. "I called you here to ask your opinion on what we should do. Obviously, meeting Gellert on his own terms would be sheer folly." Tom snorted and ducked his head at the understatement.

Hermione nodded. "But denying the invitation to parlay entirely would be a wasted opportunity. Dangling even the slightest possibility of _you_ under his nose has been helpful."

"Perhaps a series of letter? We corresponded once upon a time. It would be the cautious thing to do"

Hermione nodded. "Hint that you might be willing to meet him…under very specific circumstances."

Albus shoved his own demons down as he considered corresponding with the man who had left him an emotional wreck. He wished Edvard was in the room with a pale arm around his waist the way that Tom was holding Hermione. "He won't be able to put off invading England much longer. Not if you are right about the state of his supplies."

Hermione nodded. "I know. But if we can buy enough time for me to know the dates and times of the portkeys, then we'll be able to divert a lot of his forces. He might still be able to come over from France, but his overuse of portkeys is something I'm depending on."

Tom nodded, releasing Hermione for a moment to pull out his wand. The boy slashed it across the room and a map appeared, showing detailed numbers of the estimated forces and where they were camped. "We've managed to remove a lot of the cannon fodder that he'll be depending on. Abraxas' gold and connections with the resistance enabled us to free a lot of wizards from their vows to him." It was a pretty bit of magic, but Tom Riddle was nothing if not impressive.

Albus frowned lightly. "Would the resistance be willing to come and help us fight?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Better still, would they be willing to launch their own offensive at the same time? Gellert's main troupes will be occupied. It would be the perfect opportunity to hit his major power centers. If we don't, he and his army will just limp home and heal and we'll have to do this again in twenty years."

Albus nodded. "I suppose Abraxas can make contact with his grandmother and present the idea to her?"

Tom wrapped a long arm around Hermione's waist and smirked. "He's good at that kind of thing. We'll need to make sure he goes into politics soon so his talents aren't wasted. "

Albus snorted. "When this is all over, we'll all need to go into politics, whether we are part of the Ministry or not."

 **JMBJMB**

Jean Marie Bassett studied the letter in his hands; he knew that to any casual observer he would appear nonchalant, as befitted the scion of a number of very old and very important houses situated all over Europe. In reality, his mind was spiraling with a single word as his heart pounded in his chest. _No._ He was being recalled.

He made it to the toilet before he vomited. Then, as he'd done for most of his adult life, he pulled himself together.

He pulled on his persona like a well-worn pair of breeches. It fit in all the right places. Allowed him to ignore all the right things. He'd always been a master of self-deception and ignoring that which did not suit him. It was part of being a pure blood scion.

He finished his morning spells…one to make his hair lustrous, another to keep his skin perfectly exfoliated, and a third to reduce the redness in his eyes.

One did have to account for the excesses of the previous night.

And what a night! Helga Malfoy had invited him to hide in her rooms as she and her lover sported. The fair Janet had no idea that she was being observed and the entire idea was…titillating to Helga. The addition of an audience always increased the witch's ardor, and the sight of the two lovely ladies in passionate embrace…perfection. Or if not quite perfection (he was not, after all, involved in said embrace) it was very close.

Helga still had most of the soft curves that made her so appealing, and she didn't stint her lover in access to those lovely orbs. He did miss the firm, round belly and that almost supernatural glow she'd had during her pregnancy…but on the whole, he could do without the constant distraction that the child represented.

Jean Marie pulled a face. Not to mention all the vomit and shite that came out of the little monster's body. He'd lost no less than three cravats and a waistcoat to the creature. Bloody little nuisance. Even magic couldn't save clothing after the reemergence of carrots.

He shuddered delicately. Then he shuddered for real as reality intruded on the shallow social commentary that normally crowded the inside of his mind.

Even with the spawn accounted for, life entertaining Helga was far preferable to living in the dank, chill fortress that Gellert inhabited.

His hands stilled as his fingers gripped the marble. He couldn't do it.

He couldn't go back under Gellert's thumb.

Gellert was bored and angry, and oh so gifted when it came to mixing pain with pleasure. And like an addict that sees a chance to get high, he both longed for Grindelwald, and knew that one day…that man would kill him. There was nothing safe or sane about his playtime habits, and only the existence of magic and some fairly expensive potions had saved Jean Marie's life over the course of their relationship.

He considered his options. Most of his 'friends' were either supporters of Grindelwald, or they were people that he was manipulating for Gellert. Helga, for instance. Though that was the most enjoyable of the current arrangements.

He had a few weeks to wrap up his business in England. After that, he was expected back under Gellert's thumb.

He shivered, knowing his body reacted to the thought of what the man would do to him…not simply with fear, but also a twisted kind of lust for the man, even knowing that being with him was taking his own life in his hands…or perhaps it was _because_ being with him was taking his own life In his hands.

He gave up and summoned an extra-strength calming draught. He'd been drinking them like they were butterbeer since the heir had tortured him and erased his memory. It wasn't even the torture, or the resulting experiences in Grindelwald's bed that were far worse than what a barely pubescent girl could manage…no, it was the hours alone inside that damned black sack. The sacks that he'd seen so many times as they floated out to the waiting horde of followers, dumping out victims that would lead short, painful, degrading lives for the moment they hit the marble floor to the moment someone finally showed them the mercy of death.

Hours in that sack had broken what was left of the prideful aristocrat, though he supposed from the outside he seemed much the same.

The shaking in his body stopped, and he systematically rearranged his appearance so that no one would see that something was wrong.

He considered the empty little bottle. If all else failed, he didn't have to go back. Two or three extra draughts would stop his heart well enough.

Strangely, knowing he could escape Gellert, even if only in death, made him feel slightly calmer.

He would not go back.

 **HJGHJG**

She watched as Tom topped off the venom in her necklace with steely determination resting in his eyes. "I increased the amount or strikes that this thing is capable of, but it's still not enough to take on an army."

She tried to inject some humor into the moment, because he was so deadly earnest. "If it were, we could just send in a couple of snakes and let them defeat Gellert."

Tom didn't look up, but his lips stretched into a smile. "Someone would blast my poor little snakes long before they managed to kill the whole army. It's one of the perils of dealing with wizards."

He finished his task and she held up her hair so that he could twine the little serpent around her neck once again. He brushed his lips along the smooth skin, resisting the temptation to taste.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you claim me publicly the way you did with Albus today?" He pulled her close so she could feel the results for herself.

She blushed a little, but held his body firmly against her own. "I told you I loved you."

He nipped her bottom lip playfully. "Prove it."

She tried to punch his arm, but he caught her hand in his larger one.

"Tom, we're supposed to be getting ready. We have to spend the entire weekend with Gellert and the generals at some secret location planning to invade a country. I need to focus."

He sighed, but didn't release her.

"I have something for you."

She smiled to encourage him. He was always coming up with new ways to protect her, even though she was undoubtedly the most dangerous witch in the country…perhaps in the world.

He cleared his throat, and without warning, knelt down on one knee. In his hand, he held a simple gold band, probably transfigured from a galleon. "I love you. I'm never going to stop, and there is no reason to wait to claim you the way you've already claimed me. I want the world to know it. To hell with anyone who doesn't like it. And yes, I mean Gellert Grindelwald." Then he grinned and pulled her hand to his lips. "I'll make it good how you will, where you will, and with what you will."

She tossed her head back…laughing. "I don't think that's what Benedict was talking about when he challenged Count Claudio to a duel…that quote is the least romantic in the whole play!"

"That's where you are wrong, oh logical one. Benedict loved Claudio like a brother, but for the love of Beatrice, he planned to challenge him and kill him. But don't let my misuse of the bard dissuade you from answering me."

"You do realize that you never actually asked the question."

He smirked and stood, taking her into his arms. "Will you, Hermione Granger, love of my life, and more than that, love of my existence…marry me?"

His eyes were hypnotic and she felt like she was falling…she took his lips with a kiss that made her feel like the most powerful witch in the world, branding him and being branded in turns.

They came up for air, and she could see that his cheeks were flushed, and even his perfect hair was no longer in place…soothing to do with her fingers combing through it, entirely of the ir own volition… His eyes were urging her to put words to her actions.

She felt the dimple pull at the corner of her mouth. "You have so much of my heart that there is none left to protest."


	80. Chapter 80

_**AN: I am so sorry for skipping last week. My company laid off 87 people, leaving just 12 of us in my office. It was extremely difficult. My job is safe for the moment, but it was still awful, and even when I tried to take some time to write, my muse basically gave me the one-fingered salute and refused to come out to play. She really DID come out this week, but it's a bit dark.**_

 _ **If you have triggers for basically**_ _ **anything**_ _ **, you shouldn't read this. This is darker than I intended to go with this fic, but it fits, and I'm not one to deny the story its proper course because it makes me uncomfortable (and gave me nightmares).**_

 _ **Next Sunday is Labor Day here in the States and that means a long weekend. I don't know exactly when I'll post, because I'm taking a bunch of kids to the waterpark. It might very well be Monday before I get the chapter up. Everyone have a good week!**_

Tom's ring pressed against her breast. Despite their brave words, she didn't think it was a good idea to spring the engagement on Gellert in public for the first time. She'd transfigured a chain from a galleon and strung the precious symbol of Tom's love around her neck under a number of charms.

After all, Gellert was well known for doing rash, short-sighted things. She didn't want to give him a whole weekend of close proximity to Tom after pissing him off.

Tom would have rather flaunted the ring without notice (she could see it in his eyes) but he relented when she pointed out that they had a mission beyond irritating Gellert. The weekend was a planning session for what remained of the generals to discuss the upcoming invasion of Britain, most specifically; locations for the portkeys were going to be reviewed from a tactical perspective.

Tom relented with little grace once she promised him that she would break the news to Gellert at some point during the weekend. She fervently hoped she and Tom didn't have to fight their way out of the vacation home after she told him.

Still…the unfamiliar heavy weight of the gold ring pressed against the soft tissue of her breast (she'd tucked it in to the cup of her bra in order to hide it). That little ring of gold sent a tiny thrill through her every time she felt it. She's always known that Tom would want to keep her (as long as he didn't want to kill her for lying). But the emotion in his eyes, his touch…his kiss were so much more open than she'd ever hoped.

They arrived at 'their' room at the Three Broomsticks. And by the knowing look in the pub owner's eyes when she handed them the key, they weren't the first seventh years to make use of the pub in this way…well, perhaps not ' _this_ ' way. They changed robes in a flurry of spells, Tom's eyes stayed on her as she peeled down to her under things….which still included a full slip, so it was hardly worse than him seeing her in a sexy sundress…except that's not what his eyes said. His eyes were laying claim to every centimeter of flesh she exposed.

For his part, Tom stripped down to boxers with no modesty at all. She tried not to peek, but here eyes flicked to his broad-shouldered back as he bent over, down to the beautifully proportioned buttocks pressed so invitingly against the thin cotton. He turned around and smirked at her for watching openly, but he still ran his fingers down his firm stomach and slid a thumb into the waistband of his pants. "Do you want to see a little more? I don't mind." The challenge in his words was evident, but she didn't think she could stand to see anymore without carrying it further.

"Not right now, thank you." She couldn't believe how prissy and calm she sounded. Only the slight blush on her cheeks showed how much he affected her _. Damn blushing to hell anyway._ She was far too old to blush because a teenaged boy offered to take off his clothing. But this wasn't some random, beautiful man. This was Tom, who had so much more than a large dose of lust in his favor. He had a large chunk of her heart. And not a small part of her libido…

She snuck another peek at the bulge held back by a couple of buttons on his boxers.

 _Definitely_ not la small part of anything.

Tom chuckled darkly. "Are you sure?" His eyes flicked to the chain that disappeared into her slip. She had a _notice-me-not_ on it and the snake necklace, but Tom could sense the magic. He stepped close and ran one long finger over the smooth gold all the way to her cleavage where it disappeared.

She cleared her throat. "We do have a job to do this weekend."

He grinned mischievously and leaned in to kiss her. "Soonest started is soonest finished I suppose, but I fully intend to sleep with you tonight."

She smiled up at him, knowing that he intended to curl around her like they did every time they had the opportunity to share a bed. She took his hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

 **HJG**

Hermione tried to take in every detail as a young guard escorted them through the mountain vacation home…which Gellert must have taken from royalty or from some ancient pureblood family. The thing was immense. It was built like some Germanic hunting lodge, complete with the heads of numerous animals adorning the walls. The mounted boar's head to her left sneezed as she walked in, and it made several of the deer try to flee from their own mounted positions…which of course was quite impossible.

 _Well, that answers the question on whether the lodge was magical or muggle._

That left the question as to whether the family that had once owned this overdone pile of rocks was still alive somewhere.

Looking at the way Gellert's symbol had replaced whatever coat of arms had been in the foyer, she rather thought not.

She admitted to herself that she was a bit relived when she was led to what had clearly been a formal dining room, now clearly a planning area. The hideous trophies had been removed from the walls and enlarged maps of the territories were hung in their place. Seven wizards and two witches sat around the table, remains of a light snack and tankards of rich brown local ale in front of them. Gellert was gazing out of the window into the Mountains with his hands clasped behind his back in a pose of thoughtful leadership…and pose it was, because a painter was finishing a wizarding portrait just as they walked into the room. The painter glared at her a bit as Gellert removed himself from his pose and welcomed them with kisses on their cheeks. Gellert told the painter that they were done for the day and he packed up his things in a huff. Gellert rolled his eyes. "Annoying little man, but talented. I need a number of new portraits in strategic places to watch and listen, and he's quite gifted at duplicating his work." He grinned at them like an indulgent uncle. "How was your journey? Did you have any trouble getting away from Dumbledore for the weekend?"

Hermione shrugged as she pulled off her gloves but kept her shield cloak in place. "We convinced him that we were going to the Ministry to work with the Unspeakables for the weekend. They aren't allowed to discuss their work, you see…"

Gellert grinned. "I hope you made sure of your alibi though."

Hermione nodded. "Of course." Edvard had actually altered three memories in preparation for this trip, much as any of them were loath to spend such an extended time with a maniac. But it had given them an interesting opportunity.

Tom came forward with a long package in his hands. "My lord, as you know, I made the cloak that Hermione wore during the explosion. They are both expensive and difficult to make, so you will pardon me for taking such a long time to produce this, but it seemed fitting that you have the next one." Tom didn't let a hint of the true nature of this cloak cross his face, or even his mind. It had taken weeks, but he'd finally found a way to insert a kind-of 'off' switch in the cloak. One small spell would break one connection and the cloak would be just another bit of fabric. A shield that would break at a moment of their choosing after performing faultlessly up until that moment.

Gellert opened the box like a child on Christmas morning. The silvery shield cloak was wrapped around the brutal dictator. Hermione gave him a grin. "If I may?"

Gellert gave her a wave of his hand, indicating that he trusted her to fire an unknown spell at him with the cloak on. Tempting! So very tempting. There was even some chance she and Tom would be able to fight their way out. But she didn't let these thoughts show on her face, and merely sent a very strong stunner at him. The powerful wand cores woven into the material grounded the magic without issue.

Hermione slid her wand into a wrist sheath. "Of course, it won't protect from everything, but as we've seen, the cloak is helpful."

Gellert looked positively childish in his greedy glee. "Ah children, you are a comfort to me in my old age!" He kissed them both again, (rather longer than either of them would have preferred) and then waved them to their seats. "You know the members of my council."

Hermione recognized all of their faces (Jean-Marie was sitting at the furthest end, looking blatantly uncomfortable) and all but two of their names. Gellert introduced them: Federica Petrov, a witch that had managed to come up through the ranks in Gellert's army…meaning she was ruthless and powerful to have survived, and totally lost to any humanity if she witnessed what took place in the army without running away screaming. She looked at Gellert like he was the sun and moon. She would be a problem then. Zealots always were and Gellert seemed to attract them like carrion attracted flies.

The new general was Hansel Weismann, a twitchy little man that reminded her of a rat. His motivations were simpler: money and power. Better to be at the right hand of the devil than in his path…he was cold and ruthless, yes, but he'd switch sides given the right incentive.

The other witch in the room was predictably Madam Lestrange, who seemed almost as happy to see _them_ as Hermione was to see her. Which meant Lestrange tried and failed to hide a glare, and quietly opened an anti-nausea brew that was safe for pregnant witches, and Hermione regarded her with saccharine sweetness.

She and Tom were served drinks as Gellert waited for the elves to leave. He shot a surprising, and frankly inventive, series of privacy wards toward the door and around the room.

"As most of you know, our forces recently suffered a humiliating defeat against Ivanova's rebel filth. We lost the entire force and sadly, General Lowenstein lost his head." He shot a small spell at the table and the gruesome remains of the general appeared, mounted on a plank the same as the animals in the foyer, lips caught in a silent scream and eyes spinning wildly.

Hermione took a sip of the ale and looked at Tom out of the corner of her eye. The general's blank glare seemed to be centered on him. Tom didn't show a second of anything except calm acceptance, which would have been a bit disturbing if she hadn't known that he could fake calm acceptance at his own execution if there was a need.

Gellert seemed pleased by the reactions of his inner circle. "As most of you are aware, it is imperative for our forces to invade England as soon as possible. Our country is not producing the amount of foodstuffs that it should and muggles are also depleted because of their wars. We have allies in America that have gifted us with enough to multiply and distribute until spring, but we cannot allow ourselves to become indebted to other nations. After all, once England falls, we will need a new target for out armies." He smirked. "America and Australia are both ripe for invasion and once we have the natural resources of the Americans under control, we will be in a position to take the Russian wizards, leaving only China, the middle east, and Africa to be conquered in the years to come. It may take several lifetimes, but as you all know, The Hallows make me the Master of Death. I fully expect to rule with the world under my thumb."

Lestrange led a round of applause.

Gellert motioned for it to stop, in a show of faux modesty that would have made Lockhart proud. "All of that aside, England must fall, and quickly. Our new general Wiessman will coordinate with my dear Jean-Marie and the Arithmancy department in our war office on placement." He turned to Jean Marie. "I trust you have agents in place?"

Hermione noticed without humor that Jean Marie nodded the way one moved in the presence of a large, venomous snake. Gellert didn't pay him any mind, but turned to the maps and began expounding on the tactical necessity of taking the Ministry and Diagon Alley first, with Hogwarts as a distant second. "We could easily get tied up in the castle. Too many secret passages and no way to tell when the blasted building itself would make another. I have…a bit of a project going there. I personally went to Hogsmead and Impero'd the new divination Professor. I am also in correspondence with my old foe Albus Dumbledore. If we win him, then we will have a valuable ally. In the meantime, my letters eat away at his confidence and tempt him with power…a dish that has always been his secret, guilty desire, much as his desire for wizards over witches has been hidden from the public. If he will not join me, I will disclose both to England, which will probably lead to the oh-so-conservative wizarding public to call for his removal, leaving the school unprotected."

The eleven people around the table applauded the brilliance of the move, even as Hermione silently agreed that it would have been a skillful and dastardly strategy…had Albus been without support. As it was, he had Edvard, he had Abraxas (who was far more influential than any twenty year old should be), and most of all, he had Hermione and Tom. She let a small smirk grace her face as Gellert pontificated about his own greatness and the inevitable downfall of anyone who stood against him.

Then Lestrange went into early labor and all hell broke loose.

 **HJGHGJ**

She finally retired to the oversized bedroom hours later. For some inane reason, it was expected that all the women present would be overjoyed to 'help' the midwife with Lestrange, and she hadn't seen a way out of it once Gellert vollenteered her.

Of course, the bitch of the east had sneered that her father was simply allowing the _former_ heir to bring the new heir into the world, but Hermione had done several charms. The woman's self-deception was rather amazing to behold. The child wasn't Gellert's. For whatever reason Grindelwald hadn't announced anything either way. Perhaps he _wanted_ the reputation for fathering bastards so that his men would…what? What would it prove? Half of his army had seen him rape someone. They all knew his equipment worked…at least when dominance and pain were involved.

No matter how old she got, she would never understand some things.

There were ward on her bed designed to keep anyone else out of it (which was yet another oddity in Gellert's strange little mind) but Tom had reworked the spell neatly. He had convinced the ward that she and he were essentially the same person….so the ward was still intact, and Tom was sleeping fitfully on her duvet.

She was glad of his warmth. Even if the early fall, mountain nights were quite chilly, and the mounted animal head theme was carried even into the bedrooms. She rolled her eyes as a fish flapped his head and tail against a block of wood on the wall. She shot a stunning spell at it as she climbed into bed.

Tom didn't wake as she slid into bed, and she was proud of the rapport they'd build in the (relatively) short time she'd known him. Such a small fraction of her life, compared with such a large part of his! She could almost feel guilty, but she knew he needed the love and fellowship she provided. Just as she needed him.

She closed her eyes expecting to drift off to sleep…

And suddenly, she was floating over her body. Dark things swirled around in corners. They didn't appear notice her, not yet, and she knew instinctively that she didn't want them to.

A hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her into a one of the other bedrooms. She tried to draw her wand, but she wasn't in corporeal form, so she didn't have it.

The person who had pulled her away chuckled. Hermione turned, crouched, ready to fight if need be. "You don't want to do that." The other woman's voice was rusty with disuse, as if, even if life she hadn't gotten to speak much. She was clearly a spirit. "Merope Gaunt…I suppose I am Merope Gaunt Riddle now and forevermore. I've been trying to contact you. I am the only being that knows why my Tom was born to darkness. I need to tell you…" Her eyes looked unfocused for a moment, and she shook her head. "I need to tell someone so I can move on. I tried…I tried to tell Tom when he wore the ring, but I could tell he was disgusted with me."

Hermione eyed the spirit warily. "I've never been able to touch the spirits before."

The woman shrugged. "The veil is thin, and this place is thinner than most." She shuddered. "You would not like it if you went wandering her without your body, Champion, even with my father's ring."

Hermione's fingers itched to get her fingers back around her wand, and she felt her 'self' start sliding back toward her body. Merope's thin fingers wrapped around her wrist once more. "No! You must listen." She paused, obviously upset. "For Tom's sake."

Hermione turned unwillingly to the woman. She was a pitiful sight. Her hair was matted and tangled, her eyes crossed, even her translucent skin looked unhealthy.

"Tell me then."

Merope gave her a sly nod. "I'll show you."

And suddenly they were in a memory. It was the Gaunt's shack, and Merope, a thick-set, dull-haired but living version was humming while she worked in the little cottage. Her wand danced in the pale sunlight as she used powerful spells to clean the threadbare shack. She wasn't pretty, but there was so much joy in her movement…

The spirit moved to her ear and hissed, "Did you never wonder how my boy was 'born to darkness' as they said? How the door was opened for all the darkness that he's lived through?"

Hermione felt her jaw tighten. "Of course."

Merope looked at the younger version of herself, humming in her hovel as she cleaned. "What you must understand, Miss Granger, is that any action requires the proper foundation. Each act builds on another. Sometimes for generations. There were members of my family that rejected the madness that was growing…but our line did not. First we lost prestige, then our wealth, and finally there was something subhuman in the way treated each other and others. I tell you this, not to morn my difficult life, but so you will understand…"

The scene in front of them changed as Marvoleo Gaunt slammed into the cottage, dirty boots leaving prints on the floor as he stormed in.

The memory version of Merope cringed and started hastily making food.

"Stupid cow. Look jus' like yer mother. Rossier set the bride price at half…half of what any good pure-blood would bring! And why…because he said he'd as soon as bed his pig as yer ugly self if a sow could give him an heir."

Memory Merope cringed at his words, but her wand didn't falter as she quickly put together a meager meal.

She was hurrying over with the steaming plate when she tripped and the results landed on his face. Enraged, Gaunt pulled out his wand and began to crucio. "Bloody squib! What's yer wand for, eh. It's no bloody wonder that Rossier offered a pittance despite the fact yer the only virgin pureblood in the country. Who'd touch ye?"

Hermione's fingers itched for her wand again, but Merope seemed to pass out quickly.

Time seemed to pass oddly, and by the time Merope stirred, the windows showed nothing but velvet darkness. She reached for her wand, and seemed to look around.

Merope's spirit said softly. "My father and brother were more careful of me than they might have been because they expected to get a bride price for me. It was a dying tradition even then. There weren't many pure-blood girls willing to undergo the testing process, which involved several male healers 'examining' the girl in the presence of witnesses, often family, and in my case both my brother and father. Willing or no, I endured the test, and my father was happy to sell me to the highest bidder in hope of even the small amount of gold that a girl with my looks would bring." She sighed. "Valuable or not, my father was in the habit of using the torture curse on me and removing my wand so I couldn't use it to heal my hurts when I did anything that annoyed him in any way. The Cruciatus was handy because it didn't leave marks you see."

Memory Merope rinsed her mouth with a cup of water and walked around the kitchen in the dark. Hermione guessed that there was no way to make a light in the cottage without a wand. Merope tossed on a shawl and got a basket and went outside, into the night.

Hermione and Spirit Merope followed the younger woman easily. She was limping as she went, obviously still suffering from the torture her father had inflicted. The moon was a sliver in the sky, but the girl seemed to know the path. It took her close to the main road. She gathered the potions ingredients with the ease of long use. Hermione was sure it was something for nerve damage and pain…

"Stupid barmaid." A handsome, drunken boy hit one of the bushes nearby with a stick. "Shuutipd cow. Turnin' me down? Me? Like her idiot army boy is worth the wait. Only wanted a bit 'o fluff for the night…"

Tom Riddle Sr. was, quite obviously, pissed from a night at the local pub. Merope had been digging for some roots and was down on her hands and knees when he saw her.

"Eh. Now that's the proper position to get a man's attention love."

Merope, obviously not understanding, blushed so brightly that it shown even in the dark. Tom laughed and stumbled up (in what was clearly supposed to be a strut, but didn't quite manage it). "'Ello. What 'er you doin' out this time 'o night love? People might start thinkin' you are a witch, don' ya know…waiting for the devil to make love to her."

Merope looked panic stricken. "I'm not. Not a witch. No wand." She was looking down, and seemed surprised that she'd found the words to say anything at all.

Riddle smirked. "Not a witch? I should check." And he began running his hands sloppily over her body. "There are so many places you could hide a wand. I'll have to check them, just to be sure."

Merope Gaunt was flabbergasted on every level. Hermione could tell. She was shocked that this young man was being so forward, surprised that such a handsome lad would want her, and worried that despite his teasing tone, that he might actually think she was a witch.

She let him paw her for several minutes before trying to ease away, but the boy muttered about not going. He held her with more strength than a person so drunk should possess. When she began to speak, finally, and plead, he peppered her face with kisses, and when she began to protest weakly, he slapped her. She didn't protest after that. He didn't remove much in the way of clothing. He tossed up her skirts and mounted her with little in the way of finesse. Tears streamed down Merope's face, as he seemed to struggle with keeping himself erect. "Bloody hell…if you were a bit easier on the eye, this wouldn't be such a problem!"

Hermione was suddenly glad that Morphin Gaunt had killed the little bastard.

He slapped her again and rolled off, falling asleep in the dirt. Merope pulled her clothing into place with a stuttering breath, but Tom pulled her back, murmuring how beautiful she was. Hermione wasn't certain he knew what he was saying. It sounded more like the words a man trained himself to say when he was in the habit of tupping barmaids when thoroughly sloshed. She pulled away and went to a small stream to wash the blood from her thighs.

"That stupid, reckless, boy robbed me of the single chance I had to leave my father's house." Hermione was startled at Merope's words. They seemed so cold. She raised a brow, so that Hermione could see her scorn. "It was a violation, surely. It was painful, of course. But it was also the first time anyone had touched me with any desire, any at all, in my entire life. He might not have meant those kisses, but they were the first I ever received from a man."

The scene shifted again. Merope was watching her father and brother being hauled off by the well-meaning ME agents.

Hermione sighed. "So you were pregnant when you dosed Tom Riddle with love potion?"

Spirit Merope shook her head. "No." She watched her father being levitated out of the cottage with an expression like some dark goddess of vengeance. "No. I was not. But from the moment he took me, my magic began to fade." Hermione's eyes widened and Merope shrugged. "It happens sometimes, with great emotional upheaval. But I couldn't find a position without magic, even if I'd had the courage to look for one, which was doubtful. There was little room for imagination in the way I was raised. I was also not looking forward to facing my father when he was inevitably released from Azkaban…he would know quickly that my virginity was lost and so was the chance of him earning any bride price for my hand in marriage. "

She watched as memory Merope seemed to look around the cottage, lost, as she began to slowly clean the cottage by hand.

Tom Riddle Sr. appeared at the door, hung over and in a foul mood. "I say, your rent is due, doncha know? My father expects it to be paid no later than tomorrow." He sniffed and went out to mount his horse.

Spirit Merope frowned at him. "He didn't even remember me. He ruined any chance I'd had…and made me feel things. And that filthy muggle didn't even know!" Her eyes flashed and she gave a devious smile. "So I followed him out and told him that I would have the payment if he would return later that evening. It didn't take much to brew a quick love potion."

They watched as Tom Sr. was offered a cool glass of water in the heat. He drank it without any suggestion of hesitation, secure in his position, secure in his place. Moments later he was shouting his undying devotion to the tramp's daughter. Sprit Merope nodded, as if she understood Hermione's thoughts. "Yes, instead of being married to a foul old man…Rossier was in his nineties and had killed three wives already…I got beautiful, clever, obsessed Tom Riddle." Scenes went by quickly, impassioned embraces, a wedding at Gretna Green, a little seaside cottage paid for by Tom's family's money. "It was easy to fall a little bit in love with him, even though I knew I shouldn't. Easy enough to give him the son he wanted. So easy to fall into the fairy tale." She sighed. "But my magic weakened as time went on, and eventually the love potions simply stopped working." Scenes of crying and Tom screaming.

Then a dismal picture of a very pregnant Merope Gaunt selling her one valuable item.

Spirit Merope smiled grimly. "I didn't show you the pathetic details of my existence for nothing. I'm well aware that if I'd had a bit more imagination and spirit, I might have made some life for myself and my son." Her self-hate was evident in her voice and Hermione couldn't stand it.

"I would not judge. The life you led might make anyone a bit short on spirit."

Merope hesitated, and then seemed to shake off whatever reaction Hermione's kind words had aroused in her. "Exactly so. And it was planned so. There were nudges from the dark throughout history to make my family the perfect breeding ground for what we produced. A boy that the dark could influence far more directly than anyone had planned. My poor Tom." She shook her head.

The scene changed once again. Merope was lying on the graying sheets at Wool's Orphanage as she panted. Tom gave one single lusty cry as he was pulled from her body, but stopped as soon as he was put on his mother's breast.

Merope frowned. "There are no older magics that that of life and death. And I unwittingly called on both at the birth of my son. I was so…." She closed her eyes. "I was so angry. Tom abandoned me. My magic abandoned me. And here was a little life that hung in the balance." She took a deep breath and continued. "When I saw him, looking so much like the man that I shouldn't have loved, something erupted from deep inside me. I named him. I gave him a name and rejected him in the same breath. I named him for my tormentors. And then his birth and my death powered something that I can't even describe, something this darkness that you see around us can feed off of and grow stronger."

Hermione looked up and Spirit Merope's eyes were pools of darkness and her face was melting away. "Something we all can feed off of Champion. Something you can not stop." She laughed, and it was mad…and the rotting corpse of Bellatrix Black was suddenly in the room. "Did you like story time little mudblood?"

Hermione screamed, stumbled backwards, falling through furniture like she was a ghost herself; suddenly, something stood between her and the two wraiths. Something that glowed.

"Hermione? Hermione…wake up." She sat up, shivering, as Tom shook her awake. She sucked in a deep breath and covered her bed with a variety of warding spells that would make even Gellert jealous if he ever saw them, and then pulled the thrice-blasted ring off her finger.

Tom looked pale. "Hermione? Are you…ok? You weren't breathing."

She dashed the tears away from her eyes. "I think I got a bit close to some of the spirits that have taken note of me because of the ring. Do you remember that witch that appeared to everyone?"

Tom shuddered. "Yes."

"She sent someone else, someone she knew I'd want to talk to. I think they were counting on me to stay away until my body died."

"Merlin Hermione. How do you protect against something like that?" He wrapped around her like his skin would d the trick. She kissed him. "I think you protected me. Something bright stepped in between me and them. I think it was you."

He smirked. "I meant how do we purposefully protect ourselves?"

She warded the ring. "Well, no more sleeping with that thing on, at least not until after the winter solstice. And for another…hold me?"

"Always."

 _ **AN: Not everyone in this story is a Champion of course…Sophie is not a Champion of the light, and Jean Marie isn't a Champion of the dark. They are just a pair of normal wizarding folk doing the best they can with their respective lives. They might (like Ginny) become Champions, but not everyone in this story has a multi-layered existence.**_

 _ **On the other hand, for the purpose of this story and the concepts I'm exploring in it, the underlying power behind the light would not allow Harry Potter's best friend to be anything but 'one of their own'. In the same vein, when the darkness hijacked Tom's soul, it placed him in a very specific place.**_

 _ **That said, I imagine that the Champions of the Dark are not all that happy to be in the tender care of the darkness. It seems to do awful things to their souls…and Merope Gaunt is conflicted about Tom even in death. She was assigned to keep Hermione's attention, and she used truth as her method…so while she was trying to kill Hermione (her body wasn't breathing while her spirit was off wandering around the house), the story she told was completely true.**_

 _ **Also, if Bellatrix hadn't frightened her, she might not have alerted Tom, and he in turn, might not have woken up so he could wake her from the dream that was killing her.**_

 _ **The 'bright light' was Tom's spirit. He and Hermione have formed a bond that's very strong…both in this life and previous ones.**_

 _ **Sorry for the long Author's notes…I just wanted to clarify to make sure everyone knew what was going on.**_


	81. Chapter 81

_**AN: Happy Labor Day (in the US) To everyone else, hope Monday was less of a pain in the rear end than it normally is. This one is a bit short, but my brother had his wedding reception this weekend, a cousin had a birthday, AND I took a gaggle of munchkins to the water park. I can't wait to get back to work so I can rest! See you all next Sunday!**_

Gellert noticed that the girl had dark circles under her eyes as she took a turn admiring Lestrange's new child. The daft woman had arranged for him to be the Godfather of the brat and they were having a small ceremony to commemorate it.

It hardly mattered to him. If she wanted to claim he was the father of the child despite the shame it would bring her, it wasn't any of his business to naysay her. And it didn't hurt his position for people to think that he had the proverbial heir and a spare. It wouldn't matter at all when he managed to produce a legitimate heir.

His fingers caressed the latest missive from Albus. The man was arguing his points, yes, but he was taking the time to do so, and he was making tiny concessions as they went about it. Gellert hid a manic grin. Anything was better than the cold silence that Albus had maintained for years _. Anything._ At this point he'd gladly fight a duel just to get the other man's undivided attention. A savage debate was no effort at all.

With effort, Gellert directed his thoughts to the matter at hand. His "official" heir was not worried about the threat to her position that the child represented. One could see that on her face, by the set of her shoulders. She was as relaxed as she ever was in company. She was forever watchful when the boy was near. Always ready to defend. No…worry about being supplanted as his heir was not the cause for her sleepless night.

He let his eyes drift to the boy. Tom looked weary, but nothing about either of them indicated a tryst, and the wards around Hermione's bed should have kept out anyone who thought the girl might be fair game.

Gellert hid another grin at the probable outcome of an attempted rape. He was certain that he would find the perpetrator with his manhood removed, slaving away at some muggle temple in some Merlin-forsaken backwater, and thinking that he loved every moment of it. The girl's memory charms were vicious and while she didn't seem to kill easily, she was still very young, only barely an adult by wizarding standards. And he wasn't entirely certain her refusal to kill had anything to do with something as simple as a regard for life. The evidence suggested that she also liked to drag out punishment for years…which was more than most wizards managed…

His heir was staring at the oddly mature eyes of the child in her arms. Her jaw clinched, and the back of her neck turned slightly red, but whatever she was feeling, she held her ground.

The child started wailing and she passed him back to his mother, teeth clinched.

Gellert raised a brow and wandered over to her. "The child seems to dislike you."

She smirked but her eyes were distracted. "He must take after his mother."

 **HJGHJG**

She used the excuse of changing robes to drag Tom into their rooms. He knew her well enough to realize it wasn't for any amorous purpose.

"That child is a Champion, and from the way he tried to control my actions even at his Christening…"

"I don't think they have Christenings in the Magical world…"

"Introduction then. He tried to do a wandless imperius to make me give him my wand. It didn't work."

Tom frowned. "He's dangerous."

She hugged her arms around her body, trying to warm the chill in her soul. "Especially if he's one of the rare Champions that are sent back with their memory. The light only sent me back with the memory of _one_ lifetime. It's almost too much. A dozen lifetimes…it would drive you mad to remember them all at once. The human mind wasn't built for it, especially not a baby's mind."

"What can you do?" Tom wrapped his arms around her, warming her better than a charm.

She looked up at him. "I can't harm the child, but removing the memory of all those lifetimes and leaving a blank slate? He should be nearly a blank slate right now." She worried her lip between her teeth. "I could do that."

Tom smirked. "You know the best way to get the child alone long enough to do it?"

"How?"

"We should volunteer to babysit him."

 **TMRTMR**

To be perfectly honest, Tom was just chuffed that Hermione hadn't resorted to having herself named godmother for the child. Lestrange was entirely too likely to get herself killed during the war and taking care of nappies wasn't on his current to-do list…not for years yet.

So he's put out the idea of 'sitting' with the child…Lestrange hardly needed a sitter with a house elf hovering, but having the heir offer to do so publicly was too sweet to her delusional mind to resist.

Lestrange requested a walk from a bemused Gellert, who was in a good enough mood to indulge his 'pet'.

Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust. Even someone like Lestrange shouldn't be reduced to a lapdog. Put down like a mad dog, perhaps, but Gellert's games did nothing to reinforce the woman's psyche.

Hermione quickly asked the elf for a bottle of rose water so she could bathe the immaculate child in it. The elf, seeming glad that one of the witches in the home was taking an interest in the child, popped off to get the requested item.

Hermione pulled her wand and began the spell.

Tom waited, wand drawn, ready to oblivate the elf if she popped back before Hermione was done.

It lasted longer than it should have. Her brow beaded with sweat and the child growled…actually growled.

But quickly enough, the deed was done.

The elf returned, and didn't seem to notice that the formally preternaturally intelligent child acted like a normal child barely two days old.

Hermione cooed over the child for an hour, acting for all the world like he was an average baby. And now he actually acted like one…clutching her curls in his baby fists and demanding to be fed and burped and changed…

When Gellert and Lestrage arrived an hour and twenty minutes later looking distinctly disheveled, Hermione gushed about the child and handed him back with no visible reluctance. Then she took Tom's arm and they took their own walk around the grounds.

She cast the spell that made others think that they were having a different conversation.

"Did you manage it?"

"Yes." Her lips thinned. "It was a fight, but he was just a baby and his magic wasn't well-formed enough. Also, all those lives rolling in that brain made it difficult for him to resist."

Tom nodded as he pulled her into a one-armed hug. "I'm glad you found a solution. I didn't fancy harming a child, but a dark Champion couldn't be allowed to grow up with Merlin knows how many lifetimes of mischief at his disposal."

"Not to mention intelligence and magical ability. He was well stocked with a whole arsenal of gifts to use against us."

Tom sighed. "There will be others."

"I doubt any others will try to come across with their memories intact, at least not close enough to act while they are children. Removing Bella…I mean the child's memories was very effective. We might even be able to sway this incarnation's inclinations to the light. Wouldn't that be ironic?"

Sometimes her glee wasn't very nice at all, even when she was doing the right thing.

He kind of liked that about her.


	82. Chapter 82

_**AN: Happy Sunday everyone. I hope everyone in the path of Irma is keeping safe (and saving their batteries just in case they need them). I hope each of you are in a safe and worry-free environment today. I don't know if I mentioned that I was asked to edit a Halloween anthology (I don't think I did). I've been working on it for months and it's almost done, but I'm putting the finishing touches on it. This might affect the length of the chapters, but I will do my very best to post something for Champion every week until it is done. I know some of you are waiting for the 'final battle' and others are like me and just want Tom and Hermione to finally get some relief from the YEARS of sexual tension. (OMG, I will never write anything ever again where I have to be good about my characters falling into bed. This has been driving me nuts.) We are close to both! There isn't much story left.**_

 _ **ALSO: For those of you who were wondering…yes, the baby was the soul of Bellatrix Black/Lestrange. Yes, that's going to seriously change history since her soul won't be available when her body is born as Bellatrix. The baby is male, because in this story souls don't have a sex. I haven't named the child either…anyone want to take a stab at it? If I get multiple submissions I'll draw one of them out of a hat.**_

Albus paced beside his floo. Tom and Hermione were due any moment. It had been difficult hiding the fact that both the head boy and girl were out of the castle for an entire weekend, but not impossible. Not when both he and Abraxas were here and actively covering for them.

Albus had arranged that they would each take one evening per week for tutoring students in DA. The schedule just happened to fall so that neither Hermione nor Tom were on duty. Tom had made the case for a lightened load of prefect rounds for both Tom and Hermione since they needed to grade papers as well as take their own NEWT level tests.

He sighed with relief as the fireplace blazed to life.

A quick spell from Hermione's wand cleared the ash and dust from the floo off of their robes. Albus motioned them to his study where and enchanted tea cozy was keeping a pot of tea piping hot in anticipation of their return.

"First of all, I'm glad you are back safe."

Tom wrapped an arm around Hermione and seated her with more than his normal polite attention. Their body language worried Albus.

Tom looked up. "We have a shortlist of locations for the portkeys that Gellert is planning for the invasion. I'm not certain he can pull it off, but I think he's going to do it right after Christmas…while the children are mostly absent from Hogwarts."

"People don't expect an invasion during the holidays. It's bad form."

Hermione roller her eyes and poured out the tea. "Gellert is worried his men will begin to abandon the cause if he doesn't get a better supply route soon. They received some air from America…I tried to find out the source, but I didn't want to be too inquisitive."

Albus did a quick cooling charm on his cup. "We know from Newt that he had contacts in America."

Hermione added two sugars to her cup. "Right. Well, he's been busy. Thankfully Lestrange managed to disrupt the entire planning session by giving birth to a healthy boy. The father is anyone's guess, but I did a genealogy spell and whoever it was, it wasn't Gellert."

Albus flinched. "Thank Merlin."

"Exactly. The last thing we need is a 'true heir' for purists to build armies around for twenty years after we take Gellert out of the picture. "

Albus frowned. "There is a historical precedent for just such a thing."

Hermione sipped her tea. "That's a problem for another day. The child has a great deal of magical power, so once Gellert id done, someone will need to keep a close eye on him. I can't imagine what the son of that woman would grow up to be…"

Albus noticed she shuddered delicately. He was almost certain that Hermione had an excellent idea of what the child could grow up to be should things happen the way she'd seen them. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for the child. It was unlikely the boy would be at Hogwarts unless the mother's family took the children after the war. The Greens were an old pureblood family that was generally well respected.

Tom produced a map of the British Isles and marked the possible portkey points on the map. "Jean Marie Bassett is going to be coordinating the placement. I say we put a tracking spell on him."

Albus frowned. "Despite appearances, Jean Marie Bassett is a decent enough wizard. How would we use a tracking spell without him finding it."

Tom grinned. "Easy. I'll weave it into one of my protection cloaks, one with the same off switch that I wove into Gellert's. There's so much magic going on with the cores that finding a little tracking spell would be impossible. We'll just have to figure out a way for the spell to work with the interference."

Hermione frowned. "Use a low level of magic that can only go a short distance and then have the spell track in short bursts instead of a continuous stream like the spell normally uses."

Albus and Tom exchanged a look. "That would work, and if we times the short bursts to several times a second it shouldn't loose much as far as tracking goes…but the power in the bursts shouldn't set of any detection spells he has on himself…"

"Or any that Gellert has set on him." Albus nodded. As he rolled up the map. "Excellent work. Tom, can you alter the tracking spell, or do you need me to do it?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'll do the research on the spell. Tom will be busy enough making the cloak."

Tom frowned. "You are running a bit ragged with the faux philosopher's stone along with everything else."

She grinned. "What's one more thing? I think I'll assign my students a nice long research paper for the rest of the term though…something that will keep them occupied until after Christmas."

 **TMRTMR**

Abraxas was waiting in his dorm.

In fact, the blond was wearing a notice-me-not spell and sleeping in his bed. Tom was quite sure Hermione would make some kind of fairytale pun at that moment…if he ever admitted the situation, which he had no intention of doing.

He cast a quick avoidance spell on the room so his roommates wouldn't come blundering in and then went to the bed. The other man had dark circles under his eyes. Tom wondered how much he was pushing himself to make sure the war went off without a hitch.

Still, he should probably wake him so that the blond aristocrat could return home.

"Abraxas."

Tom later decided that the shield cloak he'd invented needed to be woven into something less conspicuous…like his short pants.

Because if he'd been wearing the shield cloak, he wouldn't have had to dodge a nasty slicing jinx from one of his best bloody friends when trying to get the tosser out of his bed.

"Damn it Malfoy." The jinx put a sizable black mark in the stone of the castle wall.

Abraxas had the grace to look slightly, if only _slightly_ bashful. "Apologies." He yawned hugely and climbed out of the bed. Tom rolled his eyes because the man didn't even have the decency to sleep above the duvet. Malfoys were always Malfoys.

"Did you need something or did you just like the shape of my pillow?"

Abraxas snorted inelegantly. "Don't be like that. I knew I was about to drop…Lucius was colicky last night and he wouldn't stay calm unless I was holding him. The elves were in a tizzy and Helga was practically pulling her hair out, which would have offended all of her lovers, so for the sake of keeping the peace, I kept the little monster company as he tried to chew through my second-best cravat."

"I'm still not entirely certain how this ended with you in my bed."

Abraxas rolled his eyes. "For some reason, you prat, I seem to care what happens to you. I wanted to know as soon as I could that you were alive and not somewhere being tortured by a madman." Abraxas fluttered his lashes as Tom. "And also, there are spells to keep me out of your witch's bed."

Tom levitated a pillow into his friend's face with more velocity than was strictly called for.


	83. Chapter 83

_**AN: Drumroll please! If sexy times offend you, you are reading the wrong fic. That said, this chapter gets well beyond heavy petting and inches us closer to the moment we've all been waiting 80-something chapters for. If that's not your particular cup of tea, I must advise you to skip this chapter entirely.**_

 _ **ALSO.**_ _ **You guys are awesome**_ _ **. (I should find a way to say that twice because it is so true.) That said, Thank you. All the lovely and encouraging words mean so much to me. I love that other people are so invested in this story. It makes it easy to want to sit down and write the next chapter when I know it brings as much joy to others as it does to me.**_

"Open it Hagrid."

Hermione watched as Tom grinned in the background. He wouldn't tell her what the surprise was, but she had a fair idea. Minerva smiled. She was very fond of the large boy and she knew that any gifts from his friends were worth more than gold to him.

Tom had gotten very fond of the girl over the years, but particularly during the time they were working on their animagus forms. Minerva huffed as Hagrid's hands didn't move. "Open it ye great lout or I'll have to do it for ye." Her accent thickened when she was upset or emotional, and everyone knew that she was quite taken with Hagrid. Hermione grinned at Tom, who smiled back smugly.

Tom had been planning _something_ all week and Hermione was glad of the moment of normalcy. Their world had revolved around the upcoming war for so long. Sometimes it was good to remember that there was more to life than fighting battles.

Hagrid tentatively began to open the thick wrapping paper with great care. A shiny wooden box was revealed. The younger boy flipped the catch and pulled out a shimmery shield cloak with a great deal of awe. "But these…Tom, these aren't for the likes 'o me…"

Tom frowned. "These cloaks are _my_ invention. Most of them are going to the Ministry yes, but some of them are for my own use. To keep the people I care about safe. That was the deal I made since the government needed me to make them." She knew how proud Tom was to have a respectable account of his own, aside from her gold from the dragonpox cure and the gold that Grindlewald was feeding them. Neither of them liked using that gold for anything but thwarting Grindelwobbly.

Tom was helping Hagrid fit the cloak around his broad shoulders. "There. Taylor made especially for you with a dragonhide liner. It will look very dashing with the new robes that Helena and Abraxas are sending you for Christmas." Tom smirked and Hagrid blushed. His father hadn't left him precicely penniless, but the estate barely covered his Hogwarts fees and the very minimum of school books and robes. Nothing like the stylish and expensive robes that Helena Malfoy consistently sent her trio of orphans.

Hermione couldn't tell if Tom had heard about the gift from Abraxas or if the postulation of robes was simply a good guess since the woman seemed to provide them with more every time they saw her.

The Christmas holos started next week and Hagrid was going with Newt on an expedition to New Zealand. Their letters had been flying back and forth so quickly that she felt sorry for the poor owls.

Hagrid stood a little taller as he tried not to let them see that he was crying. "Thank you Tom. It's beautiful."

Tom clapped him on the back and laughed. "Can't have anything happening to you, you know. The girls would have my hide."

Minerva rolled her eyes and the four of them had a perfectly nice dinner in the Room of Requirement. Tom had planned the entire thing when he'd heard that Hagrid had been asked to go on the trip.

Hermione knew that Tom would have given quite a bit to go on such a trip. He always hungered for knowledge. But he wasn't envious of his young friend in the least. He was happy that he'd been chosen, looking forward to Hagrid sharing his knowledge when he got back, and slightly worried that something might happen to him while he was away.

Watching him through dinner…seeing him tease Minerva, and shore up Hagrid's self-esteem made her realize how much he'd matured over the last year. He was great yes, but more than that, he had made himself into a good man as well. It hadn't taken much. Just a fighting chance and someone to love him.

She sighed happily as they all made their way to the door. Friday night or not, curfew was still in force and it wouldn't do to get caught out. Tom followed them out, but once they were in the hall, she waved the young Gryffindors on. "Go ahead; I have something I need to discuss with Tom."

He cocked his head to one side curiously, but didn't ask any questions as she paced outside the room three times and then took his hand.

She led him into a cozy room with a nice fireplace, a sofa, and a four-poster bed. He grinned, knowing that they could get away with sleeping in each other's arms.

He pulled her to him and kissed her sweetly, still not understanding what she'd impulsively decided to offer him.

She reached up and cupped his face after the kiss. "Do you know how much I love you? How much I love what you've fought to become?"

He chuckled and kissed her playfully. "I have some idea, yes…but you could always illustrate it further."

He stopped chuckling when she pulled him over to the bed and began to unbutton her sweater.

He was wary of her actions, but he was quite pleased to take advantage of any skin she revealed, bending his head to her neck in a way that had been spoiling her knickers for years. She removed his robes and tie quickly and began unbuttoning his white dress shirt while her legs caressed his. She could feel him hardening against her. Once his shirt was open she unbuttoned her own as his eyes darkened with lust. He began a series of kisses on her skin like he was planning to use them to map her body on a grid.

She flicked open the button on her skirt and an unzipped it, shimming out of it and the tights and leaving her only in her bra and knickers.

He still hadn't said a word, but his exploration with his talented lips reached a fever pitch as she unbuttoned his trousers. He caught her fingers in gentle hands and nipped her neck. "Merlin Hermione…what's gotten into you tonight? We need to stop." He pulled her into his arms and his kisses turned sweet as he explored the smooth skin of her back with one warm hand on her pale stomach.

She covered his hand with her own. "I don't think we should."

His body went completely still. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think we should stop. I was thinking about the man you are, and I realized that waiting for a specific date won't make you any more of an adult that you are now. You have taken responsibility for yourself and for the kind of man you want to be, and even for Hagrid which is more than anyone should ask from a seventh year student…you did that on your own. I wanted to wait until you were of age…an adult. I realized tonight that you've been an adult for some time."

She looked down, suddenly shy. "I want you, and if you still want me after everything you know about me, then I don't see a reason to stop." She kissed him deeply trying to figure out what was going on behind his eyes without dipping into his mind. "That doesn't mean that we have to take things further tonight."

Tom groaned and thrust himself against the soft curve of her bum. "Are you mad, witch? I want what you want, but if we choose to proceed slowly, I'm going to need a bit of personal time alone in the showers."

She grinned. "Oh no you aren't Tom Riddle." She ran her fingers along his still-clothed length. "I want to feel this on my skin at least."

Tom kissed her even as he was removing his boxers. He was long and strait, and unsurprisingly, his cock was as beautiful as every other part of him. Hermione sighed happily as she explored him with her hands.

"Are you sure about this?" His question held so much more than sex. He wanted to know that she was certain he was the kind of man that she would be willing to give herself to…and knowing Tom, he wasn't asking about a single night.

What kind of experiences would it have taken to change this man to the one who had decimated the wizarding world? She closed her eyes, thanking whatever powers had sent her there. Anything to see this man in the place of the bitter, broken soul that had done so much damage.

"I love you Tom Riddle. I want you. Every bit of you."

It wasn't elegant, in fact it was a bit of a desperate scrum really, but the rest of her clothing soon followed his. His hands and lips roamed over her body, inspecting all the dips and valleys she had denied him access to, and as expected, his skin on hers drove out logic and principles and everything else and left her yearning to feel him deep inside her.

She privately didn't feel like her breasts were much to look at; small, round, and tipped with pale pink nipples, they were not the breasts that wizards looked at in magazines, but Tom didn't seem to care. His fascination with them seemed boundless. He tried to suck one entirely into his mouth and half-choked himself, which set of giggles in her and a bashful laugh in him.

She kissed his nose. "That's what you get for being greedy."

He palmed her breast with a content smile. "I just need more practice." And then he continued his exploration of her body.

In the meantime, she was acquainting herself with everything she denied _herself_ as well. Quidditch had hardened his body in all the right places. She was well acquainted with the delectable curve of his bum from nights spent chastely holding him…but it was another matter entirely when that arse was naked and on full display. She couldn't seem to keep her hands away from that inviting area. It was absolutely perfect to cup with both hands and she could just imagine…she took a deep breath. She was getting ahead of herself. Whatever she might call herself in this situation, virgin wasn't one of the adjectives she would use.

Perhaps for the last time, she would be his guide. Once she offered this knowledge to him, there was little else she could teach him. They would quickly become what they were always meant to be. Partners. Equals. Two souls that bordered, ever so often, on becoming one.

She used gentle hands and pushed him to the bed on his back. He was not by nature submissive, but he trusted her, body and soul. She smiled up at him and moved so that she could capture his lips for a long moment. She broke it off when he began to move with her, she could feel his body tensing to take the dominate role again.

She stilled him with a touch. "Lie back." He did as she so sweetly commanded. There was nothing in his eyes except love and trust and lust…everything a girl could want when the man she adored was lying there waiting for her to take him.

She started on his neck, kissing and licking the smooth lines. He was fresh shaven and his skin was like silk beneath her lips. He tasted divine. He'd been brewing his own aftershave for years and it smelled pleasant, but only she knew that it tasted better. He'd designed it years before. Years, with the idea that she would run her tongue over his skin and taste it.

She took her time learning the ridges of his stomach…the small flat nipples and his chest lightly dusted with soft dark hair over alabaster skin.

She let her tongue dip into his belly button and his hips flew off the bed under her. She smirked and pushed him back down.

His beautiful manhood was bobbing enticingly as she wrapped a hot hand around it. "Merlin Tom. You know you are almost absurdly perfect."

She could tell he was about to say something, but she didn't wait. She enveloped the smooth head of his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hot skin to get a good taste of him. His hips flew off the bed again, thrusting, trying to reach for more of the warm moist heat.

She put a gentle hand on his hip and bent to take more of him in her mouth. He was murmuring under his breath with his eyes closed as she explored his length, testing the ridges and the thick girth. She took her hand off his hip and reached down to fondle his sack, enjoying the feeling of the twin weights in her palm, caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and insistently moving his legs further apart so she could have more room.

He half-screamed, half-moaned when she began to work her mouth over him in earnest. His hands fisted in the sheets and she could tell he was holding his hips still by sheer force of will.

She worked him faster and faster until he looked up, wide-eyed. "Hermione, no, you have to stop, I'm going to…"

She chose that moment to take a little more of him deeper and lick the underside of his shaft.

His eyes closed and he pumped into her mouth three times before he emptied himself into her.

She drank him down, suckling him until her was completely empty.

His eyes opened and he frantically pulled her to his chest. "Are you alright?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'm perfectly fine love."

"I'm sorry I…"

"Don't be. I wanted you to."

He looked down, troubled. "I don't know of course…but the other wizards only talk about doing that with witches that they… don't respect…" His face was slightly anguished, as if he was worried that he had tainted what they were with his physical response.

She put her hands on both sides of his face. "They are _idiots_. You respect me. I respect you. Anything we do for and to one another in bed is alright as long as it's pleasurable to both of us." She conjured a goblet and some water, knowing that kissing her mouth while tasting of his seed might be too much to ask at first. She kissed him slowly, softly. "I love you."

He turned her over fiercely. She laughed as the water spilled over both of them, only to be wandlessly vanished by Tom an instant later. "Teach me what you like. I want to make your body writhe the way you did to me."

She wound her fingers in his curls and kissed him deeply. The she took his long fingers and guided them to her venus mons. "I like everything you've been doing to me, but I can show you more."

Tom gave her that grin, the one that made him look mad as a hatter. He gave her a quick kiss and then turned that unrelenting focus back toward their joined hands and the apex of her thighs. "Show me."

And so…she did.

 _ **AN: I'll do my very best to update again next Sunday. Have a lovely week!**_


	84. Chapter 84

_**AN: Soooo…I might have accidentally taken more on than I can handle. To the people who read my notes, this can come as no surprise. I'm pretty bad about realizing that time is an actual thing and that there is only so much of it a day.**_

 _ **The bad news: I had an author pull out of the short story compellation I'm editing. The good news: That means that my alter ego here, I M Sterling, will get the change to write something for the anthology. The problem: I've got three days to write it, two days to edit, and then it has to go to the copy people.**_

 _ **AND…I've got nothing.**_

 _ **So I'm going to write a little update for this and see if my Muse will move on the paying gig once the fanfiction is written. *eye roll* Not that I don't love this story…I do. But the stuff that I have contracts out on needs to come first! (I'm giving my Muse a stern look, which she's ignoring like she's part cat.)**_

 _ **There is some chance I spend too much time with my imaginary friends.**_

Albus sighed as a large tawny owl tapped impatiently at his window. Only Gellert Grindelwald would color-coordinate his owl with his hair while his people were starving.

He fed the owl a treat as he perused the thick sheath of parchment.

He looked up. The owl was clearly waiting for a response. "You might take a rest in the owlery. This will take some time. Perhaps take a meal or two? I'll have something for you tomorrow."

The bird hooted gratefully, and Albus shut the window as it glided away.

"Another letter?" Edvard was pretending to read the evening edition of the Prophet. Albus sighed and pulled out his favorite peacock feather quill and began making notes. Gellert was surprisingly easy to correspond with, despite being an evil git.

Albus felt Edvard's arms wrap around him. "Leave it tonight. Let's have some dinner."

Albus looked up into his pale eyes. Many thought him colorless, but there were hues there. One just had to look closely enough. At the moment, there was a slight pink in the other man's cheeks that could have been caused by sitting too close to the fire…but Albus rather imagined there was another reason for it.

"I need to finish this before dinner so the owl can take it tomorrow."

"How much longer?"

"What?"

A muscle worked in Edvard's jaw. "How much longer do you plan to pander to him?"

Albus shrugged, stung by his beloved's implied accusation. "You mean distract him? Just until he invades and I am forced to stand against him. Once he's defeated, I doubt he'll be as eager to correspond."

Edvard put a warm hand on Albus' shoulder. "You pour too much into this."

"It's a war."

"It's your former lover. And even though you know that he's a corrupting influence on you, you are still drawn to him." Edvard crumpled the paper in his hands. "He will destroy you if you allow yourself to get emotionally involved with him again."

"I've never been anything but emotionally involved with him since the moment I met him."

Edvard growled. Albus shook his head. "I was in love with him for several short months…less than a year. And then I feared and hated him for the sixty years after."

"And yourself Albus. Don't forget what you inflicted on yourself."

Albus flushed. He hadn't realized that Edvard knew…but of course he did. The man hadn't been an Auror for nothing.

"Do you think I could?" He held Edvard's pale gaze for a long moment.

Edvard stood and grabbed a large handful of floo powder. "I don't know what you can or can not do Albus. All I know that continuing to associate with the man, in any way, is dangerous to you." He lit the fire with his wand and summoned his cloak. "I'm going out. Try not to scrub until you bleed this time, won't you?"

Albus was left staring at the flames. If a stray drop of moisture hit the parchment, well, there was no one there to see it.

 **ADADAD**

Albus finished writing his rebuttal and looked around the room. He was bleary-eyed, and all the candles were out except the single light at his desk. His back cracked uncomfortably as she stood and stretched. The elves had seen fit to leave him a meal under a stasis charm, but he couldn't even look at it.

He sipped the wine they provided and looked longingly at the bathroom. He'd already had one shower, but the urge to take another…he shook his head. He had to be stronger that that…both to put Edvard's mind to rest, and to prove to himself that he really was strong enough to face Gellert if it came to it. To prove that if need be, he could stand against the man and hold his own like the powerful wizard he knew himself to be.

He changed into his night clothes, uncomfortable in the solitude that had been his near-constant companion for so many years.

He set his wand as a timer and didn't allow himself to brush his teeth long…just for two minutes total. He couldn't do much harm in that time as long as he was careful.

He climbed into his cold bed and turned out the lights, tossing and turning in an effort to find his place in the bed with Edvard in it. He ended up using a charm on the sheets because they were chilled, but eventually, he managed to go to sleep.

He woke, wand in hand, later that night when he heard a thump and cursing.

He turned the lights up all at once and trained his wand at the disturbance…only to find Edvard holding his knee and frowning at him.

"I thought I would check on you. I'm always worried you are going to accidentally bleed to death from your little habit."

"That's almost impossible to do."

Edvard had been drinking, probably in his old office. "If anyone could do it, it would be you." Albus summoned a sober-up potion, but Edvard waved it away.

"I haven't drank that much. I kept careful count as I did paperwork."

"You do know you don't technically work at the Ministry anymore, correct?"

What did a workaholic do when denied his profession and the obsession of most of his life? Well, if the workaholic in question was Edvard Olivander, he snuck into the Ministry at night and re-did the work others had done during the day.

Edvard shrugged. "What else should I do? They are understaffed as it is, and this is one way that I can quietly offer my assistance."

"You mean quietly determine the placement of wizards and material in the coming battle."

The other man smirked lightly. "I thought I said that."

There was much that could be said, much that would eventually need to be discussed…but sometimes one simply had to accept that even the people who cared for you did not see the whole picture from the same perspective. Albus suspected that only time would tell which of them were right.

For now, it was late.

"Are you coming to bed?"

Edvard looked at him for a long moment, seeming to debate the question.

"Yes."

 _ **AN: This is shamefully short, I know. I'll try to do better next week. I'm really interested to see how things progress with Tom and Hermione…**_


	85. Chapter 85

_**AN: Happy Sunday! It's been a whirlwind week for me. I managed to get a little story written for the anthology and submitted to the copy people and gave final approval on the cover. The short story collection will be out on schedule and I just have a few bits and bobs to take care of before it does.**_

 _ **IM. Sterling is getting writing credit in a real book, which actually makes me giggle, since it was the slightly ridiculous pen name I came up with for myself in seventh grade…many, many, many years ago.**_

 _ **Also, I know that the last few weeks there have been more typos. It's all part of the time crunch. I AM sorry. I'll start back in editing this fic just as soon as I finish it.**_

Tom brushed a riot of curls away from Hermione's face and kissed her sweet mouth as she arched into him.

Though they hadn't technically 'consummated' their relationship, they'd spent most of the Holiday so far enjoying one another's bodies.

His fingers, so clever when it came to casting spells or chopping potions ingredients had learned her dips and curves with a feverish intensity he hadn't applied to _anything_ in his life, not even magic. He had discovered what his lips, his tongue, and his teeth could do to her…and what her body could do to him.

More, she had shown him how to connect their minds as they touched, doubling their pleasure, tripling the intensity of the emotional connection.

He literally forgot to breathe twice when she tumbled over the edge to ecstasy under the ministration of his long, clever, hands.

Albus and Abraxas were both quite put out with their antics…they disappeared for hours alone and nothing and no one could reach them.

"We're in the middle of fighting a war…"

Hermione had glared at him and whispered something Tom hadn't heard, and then politely told Albus Dumbledore to 'buggar off'.

"We'll do our part." She could tell that he was thinking about it now as his hands ghosted along her flesh, setting the nerve endings ablaze with desire. She was so responsive to him.

"We'll do our part. No matter the cost." She shut her eyes and he could feel a growing fear behind her words. She opened her eyes and he could see the fire in her gaze. "I won't hesitate to pay the price for what must be done of it comes to that. But I will not…will not, give this up. This time, here in your arms, loving you…this is mine." He tossed back his head and laughed at her fierce declaration.

"Ours."

She smiled at him and kissed him softly. "Ours."

He nudged her legs apart and rubbed his engorged flesh against her skin. It felt like molten silk. She was wet from a series of orgasms that he considered with no small measure of smug pride. He looked into her eyes, seeking permission. They had agreed to let things take their course naturally…this felt natural.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him up for a long, decadent kiss. "I love you."

He cupped her cheek, and kissed the path to her ear. "I love you." He took a deep breath and lined himself up and began the process of working his way into her body. She was slick, but she was tight.

They could feel each other's pleasure as the strokes began. He knew how deliciously full she felt and she could feel his tension as she engulfed him.

Sweet words and heated kisses continued as they found a rhythm together and careened heedlessly toward the completion they were teetering along the edge of.

She went first; a tiny intake of breath, a tightening around his member inside her. If they hadn't been so in tune with each other he wouldn't have noticed. He knew he was close, but he could tell that if he angled himself just… _oh just like that_ …

Her pleasure was his pleasure, literally as well as figuratively. She moaned and kissed him as the both tumbled over the edge one last time.

They lay in bed, holding and stroking one another long after the sweat on their bodies began to cool.

She looked up with her whiskey brown eyes and laughed. "Well, we've finally found something that can ruffle the perfection of your hair."

He grinned at her, completely unrepentant.

"A sacrifice I am willing to make any time." He leaned over and took her lips again. "Every time." He traced her lips with his thumb. "Always."

She traced his face tenderly, and then, with one of the quicksilver changes of mood she was capable of, she rolled on top of his weary body and began tracing his nipples with an idle finger. "Are you sure? Your hair is so very nice. Looks like it was carved from ebony. Are you sure this is worth it?"

He gasped as she pinched his flat nipple in a way that she'd never done.

He didn't realize how much he'd like that.

"Perfection is overrated. Please, let me invite you to continue whatever rumpling activity you have planned to perpetuated on my fair person." The line would have worked better if he hadn't been slightly breathless.

She grinned. "You sound like Abraxas."

Tom groaned. "Don't mention that prat when you don't have clothing on. I don't want to think about him right now."

She kissed him lightly. "He's just worried."

"For good reason. The plans are in place. All we can do now is wait."

He turned them over so that she was on her back again. "And while we're waiting, I think you need rumpling too."

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas handed Albus a drink as the man glared at nothing.

"They are still wrapped up in each other?"

Albus rolled his eyes. "Yes. We're in the middle of a bloody war and they are irresponsible enough to spend all their bloody time shagging like…"

Abraxas raised a brow. "Like teenagers?"

Albus' fingers tightened on his glass. "I expected better of them."

Abraxas took a deep sip of his own glass before looking into the garden meditatively. "Do you think she's seen something?"

"Hermione?"

The blond nodded, but his eyes were far away. "Something new?"

"Why?"

"Because she's never put pleasure before duty. So why now? Why not wait until after the battle?"

Albus lost what little color he naturally had. "You think that she's seen her death."

"I wonder. If it were his, she'd be working like mad to keep him alive, not taking the time to make love for days on end before they step into battle."

Albus looked concerned and Abraxas turned to face the man's blue eyes. "What can we do to protect her?"

"Keep watch. Try to stay near her as the battle unfolds. I will be challenging Gellert. I imagine I will have my hands full."

"I will make certain to stand with Tom and Hermione."

Abraxas finished his drink. He needed to talk to Tom.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas finally caught Tom by simply drinking tea in the kitchens until he showed up to get food. Tom might be an exceptional young wizard, but he was still just seventeen, and young wizards like him tended to need to keep their calorie intake high if they wanted to participate in extracurricular activities.

"Tom."

There was something much less tense about Tom Riddle. Abraxas couldn't help his slight smirk. A good shag did wonders for one's tension level.

The elves began putting together a basket for the two young lovers and Abraxas watched Tom silently.

Tom took one look at him and huffed, "Out with it. I need to get back to my witch."

"It's your witch I want to speak with you about."

Tom smirked. "I keep telling you Abraxas, get your own witch."

Abraxas poured the boy a cup of tea. "We're expecting Grindlewald to invade any day."

Tom wandlessly checked the tea before he drank. Abraxas felt a tug of admiration for his young friend. Diligent and suspicious. He really was the consummate Slytherin.

"We know what he's planning. We're the ones who reported it to you in the first place."

"It's uncharacteristic of Hermione to spend this time…indulging. She's a hard working witch. Why would she falter here at the finish line?"

Tom flashed a cold sneer at his friend. "She deserves to indulge a bit, don't you think?"

"It's not what I think that matters. It's what she thinks. Do you think she's had another vision? That she knows something is going to happen to her? Is that why she's suddenly so willing to disappear into some unused classroom and spend every minute in your company? I haven't seen her this focused since she discovered the cure for dragonpox…"

Tom had an odd look on his face. "I think she would tell me if she knew she was going to die. I think she'd fight to stay with me."

"Are you sure?"

Abraxas hated the uncertainty in Tom's eyes…but the point needed to b brought up.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom got back to the Room of Requirement with a basket of delicious food and a lingering sense of anxiety.

She was sitting on the bed of the little bedroom that had been provided, wearing his white shirt from the day before and nothing else.

His body was all in favor of ignoring Abraxas' comments. He put the food out in a modified picnic and she brought a couple of bottles of wine that she'd gotten from the Three Broomsticks.

"Abraxas thinks that you've had some kind of vision. That you know you won't survive. He's convinced that it's the reason you are spending every moment with me to the exclusion of all else."

Hermione snorted inelegantly and used her wand to open a bottle of the wine and conjure two crystal goblets.

"I'm spending every moment with you for three reasons. One: You can never tell what will actually happen once the spells start flying. Any of us could fall on the field in the heat of battle. I've lost too many people not to know that."

She poured his glass and handed it to him with a solemn expression. "Two: This is the only place I want to be right now. We've done what we can do for the war. We've fought the good fight. I refuse to spend the rest of the time until the battle just waiting on pins and needles for it to happen. I will not waste this time with worry. It's precious. It should be spent with the ones you love best." She took a deep breath and managed to get her emotions under control. "We'll need to spend Christmas Day with the others…but I needed this time with you." She kissed him sweetly and poured her own wine with a wicked smirk. "And last but not least…do you really think that once we started doing _this_ that we'd be able to keep our minds on anything but each other? There is a reason why muggles go on honeymoons!"

He laughed and pulled her to him. "Is that what this is? An in-school honeymoon?"

She kissed his nose. "A short one. Gellert will attack soon. I have alarms set that will notify us, even if he doesn't send word like we expect him to. "

"I wish you would just stay here, in my shirt, and wait for me to get back." He gave her his most dashing smile, without any hope at all that she would give in.

She didn't disappoint. "I wish they same thing about you, sans the shirt. But since we can't have what we'd like, we'll just have to make do with guarding each other's backs."

Tom sighed and pulled her on top of him, food and wine forgotten. "That's good enough for me."


	86. Chapter 86

_**AN: Happy Sunday! It's time again to say 'thank you' to all of you who review. You have no idea how much the little notes from people brighten my days. I love it all. I like the ones that basically say 'thanks' and the long reviews discussing character development and story arc. I love the ones where people ask for things that I'm already planning to give them (like a happy ending). I think long and hard when people ask for things I haven't planned. I won't do things that wreck the story I'm trying to tell, but I always consider requests.**_

 _ **I know this is still a shorter chapter, but it does at least move the story forward. My next book comes out on Friday the 13**_ _ **th**_ _ **, so I might be a bit busy next week. If you don't see an update, please be patient with me. I'll be right back at this as soon as I get the contractual stuff out of the way. I don't expect to update any later than the 21**_ _ **st**_ _ **…and it might be next Sunday f things aren't as busy as I expect.**_

Perenelle Flamel put Albus' latest letter away in frustration.

Nicholas looked up from his book as she huffed, brows drawn in a hard line as he instantly surmised the reason for her mood.

"It's close then?"

"Albus says he thinks Gellert will move before the end of the Holiday."

"Good. I'm ready to go home. New Orleans is fascinating of course, but one shouldn't spend Christmas here." He grumbled about the weather constantly, and she listened fondly. She knew he was really missing their cottage, the clean mountain air, and the company of good friends…and most of all, the freedom to come and go as they liked.

Nicholas pretended to go back to his book. "What does Albus say about the children?"

"They are well, though he's quite put out with them for acting like they are young and in love."

Nicholas huffed. "About bloody time, I'd say."

She nodded as she scanned the letter.

Dear. There is something I've been wanting to dicuss with you for some time."

He gave her that sideways grin that made her fall in love with him seven hundred years before. "Ask me anything, my love."

"I want to offer the children apprenticeships with us, once they graduate."

He frowned, obviously thinking. "They won't need them. And they've given up on the stone."

"Albus never sought the stone either and we were able to collaborate with him."

"I'm just not certain what we can offer them compared to what everyone else will be willing to give them. The Ministry will want to control them."

"Which is an excellent reason for them to come and do quiet research with us for a few years. We can offer them knowledge, and companionship, and the thrill of intellectual research."

"I'm not against it my love. I just want to warn you that they might want something else."

Perenelle sighed and handed him the letter. "Read it and pen a note to Albus. Let him know that we are well. I need to make another batch of Draught of Living Death for Merrythought." The old professor had been sent to them. She was under the Imperious curse, but could fight it off. Still, all parties agreed that she would be better off asleep until the end of the war.

 **HJGHJGHJG**

Albus found her when she took a turn picking up food from the kitchens. She'd bathed, but she wasn't entirely certain she didn't still reek of sex…the room kept freshening everything, and she suspected both she and Tom had gone somewhat nose-blind to it.

Still, she wasn't about to stutter and blush about it. If they were old enough to fight a war, they were bloody well old enough to make love to the other half of their soul in between battles.

"I'm sorry."

She felt her jaw drop a bit. Generally, apologies from Albus Dumbledore were so overloaded with flowery language and caveats that it took half an hour to realize you'd gotten one, and there was always room to debate whether it was an actual apology or just a monologue.

She looked into his eyes which lacked their normal twinkle. She hesitated for a half-second…he had worried Tom after all, and she'd had quite enough of his tendency to have unreasonable expectations of everyone. Of course, it was hard to separate their current circumstance from the feelings of her future self, which had always felt a little abandoned with the idea of being led on a wild goose chase for a miserable nine months because Albus bloody Dumbledore played his cards far too close to his chest, even when he was dead.

"If you are really sorry, I expect you to prove it. I need more than words Albus."

He trembled and she realized how very young the man was…not in age, but in the area of baring his true self to anyone. He his behind those twinkling eyes and his absurdly high IQ and magical ability. Under all of that was a man who was…young.

She shook her head, sensing that perhaps it was not her future-self that was seeing him, but her Champion-self. That part of her wanted to wrap him up in her arms and whisper that everything would be alright. That he was loved, and that no one would ever hurt him as long as she was alive and able to stand between him and anything that might hurt him.

She didn't embrace him, but she reached out and stroked his cheek. "I need you to trust me next time. I'm not infallible, but I do have a unique perspective and I have your best interests at heart. I want you to be happy."

"I …don't know how to be. Even now, if Gellert knew Edvard was alive, he'd kill him. He's stood in the way of me being happy, of me having a life, for…my entire life."

"Your life isn't over yet. Every minute is a gift. I can't promise that we'll both make it through this coming battle, but I can promise that I will be mentally present with the people I love until the moment we raise our wands to defeat the evil which would destroy everything we know and cherish." She gripped his arm firmly. "I can tell you this Albus Dumbledore. You may have to cross wands with Gellert, but you are the better wizard. I know it. Tom knows it. And Gellert Grindelwald knows it." She stood up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek above the beard.

"I'm afraid."

"I know you are. Is it just the battle?"

Albus shrugged. "It is, and it isn't. The battle I fear has never been one of flesh and magic."

"You fear your heart will betray you."

"Yes."

She pulled him close. "Love never fails. People fail. They lack the courage to go where love leads them. Follow your heart. If it tells you to show mercy, show it. Don't worry what the world will think. We will find a way to keep him incarcerated."

"And if my heart says nothing? If I feel nothing and decide to murder him for his crimes?"

"Let me ask you this…which crimes?"

"Does it matter? He's earned death a thousand times over."

"And death doesn't have to come at your hand Albus. He doesn't have to die in the battle even if he's earned it. He can stand trial. His sentence can be carried out by professionals. We could even give him to the Dementors to…"

"No." Albus cringed. "Not that. What they do…it's wrong. And using something wrong, feeding it like that, is worse than the original wrong."

"I actually agree with you, but if there was ever anyone who deserves it, it would be Gellert." She smiled and kissed his head once more. "Stop worrying. We have two days until Christmas. Go spend time with Edvard. Pop over and see Nicholas and Perenelle. Spend time with the people you care for."

"I notice you didn't mention yourself."

"I'll be right beside you on the battlefield Albus. When the spells start flying you and I will duel together for the future of the world."

"Doesn't make up for missing Christmas."

She giggled. "We won't miss Christmas. I promise."

Albus sighed and pulled her into a hug. "Will you promise to bathe before you come so we don't choke on the smell of sex?"

If she hexed him for that comment, no one could blame her.

 **GGGGGG**

Gellert stood on the parapet of his castle, cold wind biting his face as his gold and silver hair streamed behind him. His men, hardened battle-wizards were gathered in the courtyard. Not his army…no. Merely his commanders.

He had his servants pass around bags of provisions that were impossible to buy within the empire at the moment…bread, tea, whiskey, and butter. Eggs. It was amazing what a man could buy for an egg these days. Little jars of honey and jam. A whole smoked ham for each of them. Smaller bags with less luxurious food for their men.

"My contacts have opened a secret trade route from America and another from Italy. After we take England, we will immediately move on across the sea where the Americans will welcome us with open arms!"

Well, a few of them would. The rest would die. The Americans had more resources, but a much smaller magical population. They also depended too much on the vast expanse of ocean to protect them from enemies.

"Enjoy your Christmas feast with your friends and families my warriors. When next we meet, we go to battle!" The cheering rang out, through the courtyard, and out over the mountains.

Gellert saluted the men and strode off the blasted wall. Even the warming charms he'd put on himself were wearing thin and all he really wanted was a hot fire and the company of Hermione.

Alas…his heir was with Albus. He'd have to sneak her out Christmas night to let her know when she should port to his side. Together, they would break Albus Dumbledore and remake him. She would eventually bring them the philosopher's stone. Together they would rule.

And it all began here…with the upcoming battle.

How best to break Albus? Soft words? Heated kisses? Pain?

He started humming an old Christmas carol as he made a list…


	87. Chapter 87

_**AN: Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter kind of ballooned on me and editing it was more difficult than most of the chapters so far.**_

 _ **Speaking of editing: I was making a list of little things I want to add to the story when I do the final edit. I want more scenes showing Minerva, Hagrid, Tom and Hermione together (this I know). I want more knights of Walpurgis action. Assume those scenes will be added. They won't change the outcomes, but they will add depth to the story and it will keep me engaged while I edit this monster. Let me know if there is anything you guys would like and I'll see what I can do.**_

 _ **FYI: I had a message from one of my readers who said that can't get fan fiction in her country anymore…I hope she sees this. I'm not posting on other sites, but if any of you have a similar problem, send me an email address on PM and I will e-mail you chapters of this story and then a copy of the whole thing at the end. I don't like countries that try to limit information. I want everyone who enjoys this story to get to finish it. I can't stand it when a story I'm reading is unfinished…(I can FEEL some of you glaring at me because I have two unfinished fics on this site…I WILL get them done, I promise).**_

 _ **Also, I'm giving away PDFs of my latest IRL Halloween anthology..specifically, I'm offering them to you guys who read my stuff on this site. I decided that since I had to co-opt IM Sterling when one of my writers backed out that I should share 'her' stories with any of you who'd like to read them. Send me a PM with an e-mail address and I'll send you a copy. All I ask is that you don't share the stories publicly. FYI: I do have the appropriate permissions to do this.**_

Christmas day dawned bright and clear, with Tom's arms wrapped around her like a python…not that she minded.

They were in the room of requirement, but she'd asked for a charmed window so they could watch the snow fall on the grounds last night and hadn't wished it away, so the pale light of dawn woke her as the first rays crept over the mountains surrounding the school.

She felt him nuzzling her neck as she tried to get up. She kissed his fingers until he laughingly released her. "We have to get bathed and go to Christmas with Albus."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "Do we really have to?"

She laughed, knowing he was joking. She leaned down and kissed the tip of his perfect nose. "Yes, we really have to."

"Can I at least take a shower with you?"

"No you prat. The idea is to get to Christmas dinner without smelling like we've been shagging non-stop for a week."

He folded his hands behind his head and grinned smugly at her. "My love, we _have_ been shagging non-stop for a week."

She laughed and sashayed into the bathroom that the Room of Requirement had provided. It was thoroughly futuristic (some of the amenities wouldn't be seen in the wizarding world for seventy or eighty years) and done in dark gray slate that was warm to the touch.

She sighed as she stood under the gentle fall of warm water. A wealth of bath items were at the side and she used large handfuls of them. The scents varied of course, but this morning she chose a sprightly scent that had been a favorite of hers' in her first life. It held hints of warm cotton sheets and top notes of lime and grapefruit. She was washing her hair when Tom stepped in.

"Tom!"

"You smelled too good to resist. I'll behave, I promise." His eyes promised other things entirely, but she moved to the side so he could get under the warm spray of water.

He picked up her soap instead of his customary bar. "I love this scent on you."

She kissed his wet cheek. "Thank you."

He took a long sniff and put it down, reaching for the cedar scented soap he preferred. She nearly purred as he began to rub the suds all over his body. She was pretty enough, she supposed….but Tom Riddle was like the statue of a young god. If Michelangelo had seen him nude, he would have insisted that he pose for a young Hades.

"You know, I promised to behave, but you didn't." He was responding to the obvious lust in her eyes on a physical level, but his eyes were warm and exceptionally pleased with himself.

She grinned up at him, kissing his lips softly. "We promised to be there by ten."

"We have two hours."

"I still have to wrap gifts because you said you'd help and then we got distracted."

"I _will_ help."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

No wonder the dark had wanted Tom Riddle so much. The man was a positive genius when it came to temptation.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas waited with Lucius by the floo impatiently. The boy, at nearly eight months old was cherubic in looks and less-than cherubic in practice. His first few words were Mama, Papa, and 'Mi…which was what he was currently calling Helena until he could pronounce 'grandmother'. Frankly, Abraxas wondered if his mother wasn't doomed to be known by her new moniker, but he was bright enough not to mention that particular assessment to anyone.

Helga was 'getting ready' in her rooms…which apparently was code for a last-minute romp with the lovely Janet before the woman scurried off to play the part of the perfect pure-blood daughter at home. Helga had insisted on inviting Jean Marie Basset for drinks after dinner, but Abraxas had put his foot down and demanded that Christmas dinner be only close friends and family…he did mention that she could, of course, include Janet in that, but Janet had responsibilities of her own.

Hermione was the first to step out of the floo with Tom seconds behind her. Albus arrived before Hermione had kissed his cheek and stolen his child's affection (which was to say he arrived almost immediately, because Hermione had the child in her arms as soon as she'd charmed the soot from her robes).

Albus greeted Hermione with a soft look and a kiss on the cheek, which was far more demonstrative than Abraxas had even seen. He gingerly reached out and caressed Lucius' soft blond head, shook Tom's hand, and allowed Abraxas to pull him into a manly sort of hug. Edvard arrived soon after, transfigured to look like his own cousin. "We can only stay for a short while. There is a meeting this evening. The three of you will be joining us?"

Abraxas wondered what Albus was up to, but he nodded anyway. "I'm certain it would be to our benefit to come."

His former transfiguration professor's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles…which never meant any good for anyone.

Hermione nodded silently and Tom simply pulled her into his arms, wrapping protectively around her and the child she was holding.

Helga chose that moment to waltz into the study in a pair of particularly high heels. Honestly! She was using so many cushioning and balancing charms on them that she'd break an ankle is someone shot a finate at her.

Abraxas bit back a sigh. If one had to marry for breeding purposes, it would have been better to choose someone with a modicum of good sense and good taste. But then, he hadn't considered actually living with the chit after he married and got his heir. He looked down at his son, still in Hermione's arms and smiled. Marrying for taste and breeding was one thing Lucius wouldn't be doing.

Edvard had Helga on his arm in seconds as they chatted lightly and everyone went to the dining room for Christmas dinner. An elf managed to pry Lucius away from Hermione (it helped that the boy had just dirtied his nappy).

They were an odd group, but strangely, they were a happy one.

Albus pulled out a parchment. "I have a letter from our old friends Nicholas and Perenelle."

Hermione smiled and took a long drink of the white wine in front of her. "Well, are you going to read it?"

"They simply wish us all a happy Christmas."

Tom's face betrayed nothing, but Abraxas could almost feel his mind calculating the odds of that statement being true. Abraxas allowed himself a long drink of his wine and a small grin. Tom rolled his eyes.

Good friends. Good food. People you would die to protect, and people who loved you. It wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned, it certainly wasn't a picture anyone would put on a postcard, but these bonds of friendship and family that he'd forged were sound and true.

He raised his glass. "To family."

Hermione raise her glass. "To family here, and family absent."

Her eyes were sad, and Tom moved his hand under the table. Abraxas tried not to smirk too much. One never knew if a facial expression would become a family trait that was passed down from father to son for all eternity (and his smirk gave entirely too much away, even if the witches did seem to find it appealing).

Dinner was lovely. There was a mirror call from Hagrid, thanking everyone for his gifts. He was still working with Newt Scamander over the holiday. Minerva sent an owl with a large haggis she'd prepared herself. Abraxas managed to eat his portion whereas Hermione dug in with gusto.

Albus watched her spoon up a second portion with wide eyes. "You don't actually like that do you?"

"The witch that mentored me before Hogwarts was a Scot She loved haggis, and this is particularly good."

Albus watched with visceral disgust as she and Tom ate their portions. Edvard didn't flinch either, but Helga and Helena refused to touch it at all.

Abraxas switched to tea once the haggis was done. He knew his friends had worried about his drinking for some time. He couldn't claim that their concern was totally without merit. He drank. It was what aristocrats _did_. But for them, and for Lucius, he'd cut back. He was certain that part of his own father's issues had been his overindulgence in absinth as well as the prescription potions he was constantly being given.

Abraxas went to Lucius' room before while the others were talking quietly. The baby was sleeping under the watchful eyes of the house elf. Abraxas caressed his flaxen head and pulled a soft blanket over his chubby body. He breathed in the scent of the child and whispered, "I love you." before leaving the room.

Jean Marie was already in the drawing room with Helga, and his mother gave him a nod as he walked toward the floo.

Albus straitened his daffodil colored robes.

"We really must be leaving. We have one last social call to make today. Helena, if you don't mind, I'll bring tom and Hermione with me…and if you don't mind, Abraxas, could you come along as well?"

Helga's screechy laugh filled the room. "Why Albus, you sound like you are plotting some naughtiness." Her eyes flicked to Jean Marie, who was watching her with ill-concealed hunger.

Abraxas frowned and he saw Hermione and Tom shared a look.

"We simply have some business to attend to, my dear." Abraxas gave her a perfunctory kiss on her pale cheek.

Her eyes were straying to Jean Marie once again; Abraxas sighed and turned to his mother. "Mother, if you could take charge of Lucius, we won't have to interrupt Helga's plans for the evening."

"Of course dear, always happy to keep him." Rather, his mother was always happy to let the elves keep him while she supervised and was in charge of cuddling.

Helga shot her mother-in-law a grateful look as Abraxas silently increased the strength of the wards.

"Mr. Basset…a word."

The beautiful Frenchman looked somewhat surprised as Abraxas escorted him from the room. "I know you have designs on my wife."

"I…"

"Don't be a fool. If I actually objected, you would be quite dead and no one would ever find your body." Abraxas let his façade of affability fall from his face like a curtain being drawn. "I must mention this, however. If you harm, or cause harm, even indirectly, to my wife or any other member of my household, no force in the wizarding world will keep me from hunting you down and rendering the rest of your many long years an example of excruciating pain and humiliation. I promise you, Bassett. Should you cross me, I will never, ever kill you. And I have the money and connections to make sure you live a very long time."

Jean Marie paled, but he didn't seem particularly frightened, which didn't suit Abraxas in the least.

"You should take my words at face value."

"I do. But I can hardly fear death when it waits for me in every corner, now can I?"

Abraxas raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"If I were to defect, perhaps to your grandmother's camp…"

Abraxas snorted. "Trust me, you would never get within a hundred miles of it."

Jean Marie shrugged indifferently. "Then somewhere. If I were attached, to say…Grindlewald, and I chose to defect..."

"I'm certain we could find somewhere to stash you."

The man paled. "Not Azkaban."

"No. We wouldn't put you there." The rotter would just make more trouble in a place like that.

Bassett bit his lip like a nervous thirteen year old girl. "Would you…would you be willing to be an intermediate for me? I have…I have a number of names that I could trade. Allies here within the borders of England that would be valuable. Some that are not suspected."

"Why would you do this?"

The man shuddered. "Because if I go back to him, it will be my death. Sooner or later, he will end me. And you should accept because once he crosses this threshold, he'll take the country eventually."

"I'll discuss it."

Basset grabbed his arm with strong fingers. The man's face was ashen. "Not with Dumbledore…or Hermione Granger. Not with Riddle either."

Abraxas narrowed his eyes. The man was actually making a move to defect if he was afraid of the known spies and the man that Gellert was trying to seduce. "Stay here until I return. If you leave I will have a warrant and we will find you, and we will throw you so deep into Azkaban that the dementors won't even bother burying you."

Jean Marie looked down at his shoes. "I'll stay away from your wife."

Abraxas laughed. "Oh, no need to go that far." The last thing he needed was a petulant Helga on top of everything else.

 **TMRTMR**

They flooed to Albus' office and Tom removed the ashes from his robes in an efficient manner. "Where are we going? You never said."

Edvard poured himself a drink. "We're not going anywhere. Five members of the Wizengamot are coming here tonight to interview our spies before they are willing to trust the information they are given."

Hermione swore. "Buggaring bastards."

Albus winced at Hermione's language but Edvard gave her a small grin. "Leave buggering out of it please. They're politicians, which makes them far worse than bastards. And they are old politicians and all…"

Tom winced. "All Slytherins no doubt."

Edvard shrugged. "Of course they are. Who else could survive over a hundred years of bare-knuckle, toe-to-toe, manipulation to stay at the top? I wouldn't expect a Hufflepuff if I were you."

Albus chortled. "I'd like to elect a badger sometime just to see them slice through the politicians."

Edvard sighed. "They problem is, they come in, clean up, and never stay. Can't take the constant backstabbing. And Gryffindors don't have the patience."

"And Ravenclaws, are, as a whole, entirely too intelligent to waste their time on things that can never actually be truly reformed."

"Precisely."

Hermione smoothed her robes. Tom's eyes followed her hands, and Edvard and Albus pretended not to notice. "So how are we going to meet them? In another form I suppose?"

Albus held out two particularly gloppy-looking goblets of potion.

Tom and Hermione wrinkled their noses in tandem. Tom took his and added the hair that Albus provided. The potion turned an unappealing green, but looked a little less gloopy. Hermione added a blond hair to her own goblet. Her potion turned a lurid yellow and she wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell.

They both drank without comment and Albus watched, twinkling like a mad-man.

Hermione took on the form of a very tiny woman with clear Germanic features. She was even shorter than her normal stature and had to catch her skirt so it didn't fall off of her elfin frame.

Tom seemed to be roughly the same size, but his hair was thin and lank and flowed well past his elbows.

Albus fixed their clothing with a quick wave of his wand. Tom wondered why Hogwarts didn't teach basic necessities like tailoring charms. It wasn't as if they were particularly difficult. Neither were cooking charms or cleaning charms and he'd never seen one used as an example in class. They had a bloody Muggle Studies class and Divination (of all the daft things), but they didn't teach the basic knowledge that would help anyone and everyone survive once they didn't have a veritable army of house elves waiting on them hand and foot.

Albus broke through his contemplation. "Don't give them names. Don't give them places. You can answer information about specifics unless you think it would implicate you personally…say if it were a conversation where only the three of you had been in the room."

Tom conjured a ribbon and tied his hair up. "Who are we really?"

"I went to London and took the hair from two immigrants. The chap you are wearing is Greek. Hermione's form is German, although I've never seen one quite that tiny."

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing he'd chosen a tiny form just to annoy her. "Do we have code names?"

Abraxas chose that moment to enter via floo. His eyes widened and he was half-way toward drawing his wand when Tom chuckled and explained. "Polyjuice."

"Merlin. We have a…problem. Or perhaps an opportunity. It depends on how you look at it."

 **HJGHJG**

Hermione fought the urge to scratch her head. The body that Albus had gotten for her had atrocious dandruff. She kept her hands down though as she listened to Abraxas spin the tale of Jean Marie's apparent change of heart.

Tom frowned. "More like a wobble of courage than an actual change of heart."

Abraxas smirked. "He's not the bravest bloke in the history of the Wizarding world, I'll give you that."

Edvard looked into the floo and said meditatively, "He's a sycophant who only plans to desert his cause because he fears for his life."

Hermione spoke up. "But he's a well-connected sycophant with information we can use. He's in charge of the bloody port-keys. He recruited the wizards to bury them."

Albus sucked on a lemon drop thoughtfully. "It seems all-too-easy that he falls right into our lap at the most opportune time."

Hermione snorted, and she felt a boogie dislodge in her borrowed body, which she quickly removed with a wandless vanishing spell. "It's not really. If he deserts Gellert right at this moment, he'll be replaced and the plan will go to hell. If we try to make him spy, he'll be found out, and the plan will go to hell even quicker, with the added bonus of getting me and Tom killed. If we fake his death…"

Tom shook his head. "Too soon after Smith. It will look suspicious."

Hermione nodded, as the floo flared to life. She leaned in between Abraxas and Albus. "Doesn't matter. That plan would go to hell too. We'll talk about this later."

One by one, members of the Wizengamot pulled their august selves out of the floo with varying looks of disgust. All five were wizards. Three were completely white-haired under the soot. One had striking salt-and-pepper hair sheared short in the Roman style and looked like he might be ready to go into battle any moment. The last had buttery locks curled in an elaborate hairdo that even Helga Malfoy would have considered pretentious.

Albus faced them with narrowed eyes and his hand on his wand. Hermione's eyes widened. She'd never seen his façade of geniality crack quite so quickly around another human being.

"As you can see, my spies have come. They are of course, under polyjuice so you will have no luck finding them once we've finished. You may refer to them as Agent A and Agent B respectively."

The man with the absurd hair frowned. "Which is which?"

The salt-and pepper wizard gave a frustrated sigh. "Does it really matter?"

Hermione stepped forward before it could turn into an all-out brawl. They only had forty minutes or so before the potion would begin turning them back.

"Call me Agent A if you please."

The man with the buttery locks bowed low. "Cyrus McMillan-Dagworth, at your service my lady."

Abraxas stepped in. "The others are Gerald Finch, Hippocrates Flint, Roderick Littlebottom, and Warren Black."

Hermione made a silent bet with herself that Warren Black was the wizard with salt and pepper hair and a bad attitude. Tom caught her eye and read her surface thoughts. He turned his head so they couldn't see his face for a moment, and sent her his best smirk. She wondered if there was something wrong with her, because that little look filled her with the kind of happiness that she associated with a particularly strong and corporeal patronus.

Black drew himself to his full height and surveyed them with narrowed eyes. "How did you come to be spies?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We saw an opportunity and we took it. You should know we won't give you any specific information. Both of us would like to be alive after we win this war."

Cyrus McMillan-Dagworth nodded. "Perhaps some background information then? I realize you can't tell us who you are really, but we would love to know the names of your parents." Tom shot Albus an incredulous look but the wizards seemed to think it was a reasonable demand.

Hermione raised a brow. "You wouldn't know them. I'm muggle-born."

Hermione's statement was met with looks of disgust and an abortive wand movement from Warren Black…abortive because several wands were directed at him before he could fully draw his own.

Black spat, "Albus, you always were a muggle-loving fool. I blame the impurity on your mother's side."

"If I had this many wands pointed in my direction, I'd choose to be a little less insulting…but then, I'm well-known for being rather clever. " Hermione smirked.

Abraxas was calming the other members. "Gentlemen, please. Are you saying that you want to vilify our Joan of Arc because she's a peasant? You won't take a miracle because you don't approve of how it was delivered? Because mark my words…we _were_ going to lose this fight. Even if we'd won the battle, even if we'd killed Grindlewald himself, we were going to lose the fight because we were infested with spies and informants. Agents A and B have been at the front lines of this war since the tide turned, and they've done more to save this country than anyone will ever know. If you knew the half of it, you would bend down on your pure-blooded knees just to kiss her arse."

Black and the others looked at Malfoy with undisguised confusion. Black was the first to recover. "That little pet of yours at Hogwarts, the one you drag around to embarrass you wife…the boy. He's muggle-born, isn't he? Did the power of his supple young body convince you to throw away generations of tradition?"

Abraxas' tone crackled like ice. "You are confusing me with my father. Tom Riddle is a half-blood, from a very old family if it matters at all. And I can state under any oath in the wizarding world that I have never bedded the boy, a fact that I only mention to protect his reputation, because I most certainly do not owe you an explanation about my proclivities." He arched a blond eyebrow and smirked. "Should you question my inclinations again, I suggest you ask your wife about my prowess under truth serum. She might enlighten you. My friends outside of this room are hardly the point. The only traditions I'm interested in upholding are the ones that are going to help us defeat a tyrannical madman bent on world domination." Black was turning an unattractive shade of maroon. It looked unhealthy.

Black finally found his voice and sputtered, "I should challenge you to a duel, you….you… puppy."

Abraxas gave him a lazy grin. "Be my guest. In the meantime, are we going to continue to rake around scandals and throw personal insults or are we going to behave like grown wizards? I expect you want some kind of assurance that the spies weren't leading Albus astray."

Cyrus nodded, jiggling his over-done ringlets.. "Albus is a brilliant wizard of course, but his methods are somewhat, unorthodox." His eyes flicked to Edvard. Hermione gritted her teeth, but held her tongue. She could hex them later.

Abraxas gave them a small smirk. "Say what you want about Albus. He gets things done."

Two of the grey beards were nodding, and the third muttered in a loud whisper. "It doesn't matter, after all Black, if a tool is coated in dirt, as long as it's useable."

The second wizard snorted. "As long as you wear gloves." They both laughed like it was all very witty while Edvard stared coldly at them. Tom seemed to be calculating exactly how badly he intended to hurt them.

Hermione found her voice again. "Did you have anything of value to add, or is your worth solely in slander and supposition?"

All five looked startled.

Black spoke up. "Listen here, you filthy little…"

He fell to the ground, writhing. Hermione gave the others a cold smile while he screamed. "A spell of my own design. I use it so I don't have to torture people. They simply react like they are being tortured, and then it wipes their memory of the incident like it never happened." She considered letting it go until he actually soiled himself, but relented right before he got to that point.

"You've spent the past five years arguing points of intent in private committees and asking yourselves if Grindelwald was really, really coming for you…across a channel that it take Muggles two hours to cross, you buffoons. Of course he was coming for you. Only an idiot would think he'd suddenly stop. In the meantime, more productive people have been taking charge and using their talents and resources to get our country ready, risking their lives to give us a chance. I think you should all consider retiring from public life right after the war while you can still do so with honor. If you get in the way of winning this war again, I won't hesitate to eliminate you. "

Dagworth pulled a lace handkerchief out and pressed it to his lips like a complete dandy. "Young lady…"

"I'm not done. And you should really consider the fact that you have no idea if I'm a lady, a man, or a hippogriff that likes to pretend to be a wizard. I'm using polyjuice. If I come for you, you'll never see me coming and you won't have any defense. Once we remove Grindelwald, we're going to clean up the governing body of this nation, starting with Minister and ending in the custodial services. I will leave no rock unturned. So let me say this again: You should retire with whatever dignity you can muster before I start turning over rocks. Because when I find slimy, disgusting things under those rocks, I'm going to Avada the lot of them and let Merlin sort them out."

She looked at her watch. "Now, if there are no other questions, my partner here and I really must dash off and continue making the world a safer place while you lot go back to focusing on back-room deals and coin debasement."

 **ADADAD**

Hermione left the room via floo, and Albus let out a breath. The five wizards looked at him with undisguised hatred.

Edvard stepped forward. "I suppose it is time for another secret to be revealed." He tapped his own head and all of Albus' careful transfiguration was undone.

Five jaws dropped open. Abraxas laughed at the older men once again.

Edvard nodded his head at members of the council he'd worked with for decades, men who had thought he was dead. "Gentlemen, as you can see, not everything is exactly as it appears. It became expedient to hide my continued existence due to circumstances and a botched assassination attempt. Please understand that my 'death' in no way impaired my ability to duel, and should you make good your threat on the young Malfoy heir, I will personally stand as his second, so if you manage to wound him, you'll face me."

Albus frowned. "That's rather unfair. I was going to ask to be his second!"

Olivander laughed. "Yes, but they don't know to fear you my friend. They've never seen you really duel." He turned his cold, colorless eyes on the men. "They know what I can do."

Black winced. He'd seen the results of Ollivander's wandwork on any number of criminals through the years. Olivander grinned again. "Though honestly, I imagine the best choice Abraxas could make for a second would be little spy A or B."

Abraxas smirked. "That's a bit like killing a fly with an Avada, don't you think? I don't want them dead."

Edvard eyed the confused wizards who were quite aware they were being threatened, and completely unnerved by it. They hadn't often been on the receiving end of threats. "I would recommend for you own sake listening to our little spy's advice. If you are dirty, you should get out before the water gets too hot. Retire to some island without an extradition treaty."

Littlebottom sneered, "How dare you impugn…"

Abraxas stepped forward and stood nose to nose with the older wizard. "Even if, by some miracle you aren't dirty…the people are going to want a scapegoat once they see the real breadth of the destruction, and let's be honest, you didn't do anything to stop Grindelwald. If you had banded together, or hell, even aided the European countries when he took them out one by one, he wouldn't have gotten this far. The only reason you are reacting now is because he's practically on the doorstep. Trust me, once the wizarding public sees the atrocities that Grindelwald committed during your watch, you won't want to be in power anyway. The wizarding world will call for your heads. "

The other men widened their eyes collectively.

Abraxas gave them his coldest grin. "Of course, that won't matter. If you stand in the way of our little spy duo, the public won't have a chance to get their hands on you. They've gone toe to toe with the worst Gellert Grindelwald has to offer. Do you really think you can beat them? They won't play political games like you are used to. They'll hex you and hide your body. That's what comes of growing up during a war. The standards are entirely different. But if you really feel that you must stand against them, please, be my guest."

He tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. "Now that you've insulted every single person in the room, feel free to get the hell out of it."

He turned to Black. "And I dearly hope you decide to challenge me to that duel." The man simply glared as he entered the fireplace and grumbled his destination.

Edvard poured himself a drink. "Well, that could have gone better."


	88. Chapter 88

_**AN: Sorry for the unexpected absence. I picked up a cold and tried to work through it and managed to get pneumonia. I still feel a little 'off' even after nearly a month. Do me a favor? Do everything in your power to stay well this year. Whatever is going around is truly awful. Makes you muzzy-headed on top of being miserable. I will work on my messages (sending out the copies people requested of the Halloween Anthology) just as soon as I post this. Again, I am so sorry for keeping people waiting all this time. I am going to**_ _ **try**_ _ **to resume my normal schedule even with the Christmas stuff going on this month.**_

Gellert watched the glittering throng twirl under the enchanted candlelight in the grandest ballroom in his empire. It had once belonged to some pureblood royalty in Bulgaria (had it been a cousin of Ivanaova? He couldn't remember…)

He'd long ago liberated the scrumptious palace and surrounding grounds from whoever they _had_ been. They were in a war, after all, and it was tragic how that war seemed to eliminate his political rivals…

The only downside to using the ballroom in this palace instead of the one at his fortress was that there was no dais for him to look down on his subjects. He was forced to make do with an alcove in the gallery above the floor, a place he assumed had been designed for secret meetings between attendees…it certainly was designed to avoid the eye rather than to draw it.

This was both madding (he couldn't see the faces of the court) and amusing (the court knew he was watching from above, which seemed to make them nervous). It did, however, allow him an excellent vantage point to await the arrival of Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle.

Tom and Hermione entered the room in matching opulent velvet he'd sent to them that very evening with a portkey and an invitation (well, perhaps an order, but one printed on thick cream linen paper with gold-leaf accents and hand-written calligraphy…so it was by far the prettiest order he'd ever given.)

He watched the throng of followers as they fawned over the pair. A few muttered behind hands or fans, but they all knew he was somewhere, watching. His power in this room was absolute.

As it should be.

He allowed them a single dance, where his heir was the focus of every eye in the room, and then he revealed himself.

"Greetings, my most loyal and devoted followers." His voice was quiet, but the amplification spell cut across every conversation in the room while never sounding as though it was louder than the most pleasing conversational volume. He made his voice sweet in their ears. Every eye turned toward him. "Tonight, we celebrate!" The expected enraptured applause thundered through the room. He apparated down to the floor and continued his speech as they stared at him with both fear and awe. "Tomorrow night we strike at the heart of Wizarding Britain. Their Ministry will be in our hands by dawn. Those of you serving in my army will have further instructions awaiting you tomorrow. But for tonight, I have something very special for my inner circle." He met the eyes of several of them and smirked as five burly guardsmen wheeled out a large vat of truth potion, the silvery contents of the cauldron sloshing slightly as his dimwitted minions stopped in the middle of the dance floor.

"Tonight, those in my inner circle will reaffirm their loyalty to our great empire, and having done so, they will in turn dose those who are their underlings, so that our ranks are pure of purpose and without traitors as we go forward to battle." He was, perhaps, laying it on a bit thick with his speech, but he wanted to see their faces, give them time to panic as the idea of a truth serum pervaded their thoughts. Most looked uncomfortable or afraid. After all, everyone had _something_ to hide. Only a very few of the best liars looked completely at ease. Somehow he was not surprised that Hermione and Tom were in their number.

Gellert grinned at his audience. "My heir shall take the first dose, and then, when her allegiance is proven, she will be the first to dose her underling, her guard, Tom Riddle."

His heir moved forward with no discernible hesitation in her body, eyes on his own. Brave, like his heir should be.

He held out a tiny cup of wine laced with the potion. She didn't bother to hide the fact that she wandlessly checked the cup for a number of other additives.

"I'm not likely to poison you pet." He whispered near her ear and smirked at her.

She shrugged and muttered. "I didn't think you would my dearest Grindelwobbly. But if someone had the opportunity, it would be the perfect moment to poison your entire inner circle, and it isn't like we haven't been nearly blown up by a mad member of the court once before."

She tipped the wine into her mouth and swallowed neatly. He waited twenty seconds for the brew to take effect. "Who do you owe allegiance to?"

"The Empire."

Gellert grinned. "Good enough, though I wouldn't mind if you mentioned me personally."

She raised a brow. "I wouldn't mind if you mentioned me personally either, but I wouldn't expect it."

He laughed. "Cheeky child! Now one last question and we'll be done with you and on to your lovely boy. Do you now, or have you ever, acted in collusion with the British Ministry."

"No. I want nothing more than to bring the Ministry to its knees."

Gellert cocked his head to one side. "Why?"

Her face got very still for a long moment. Passion danced in her eyes as she spoke. "Because they are the corrupt remnant of what was once a gathering of better witches and wizards. Because they have to be stopped at nearly any cost. Because…I could do it better." At the last, the cheeky grin was back and she gave a charming little half-shrug.

She took another small cup of wine and potion and handed it to the boy. He smiled as he took his own potion. His heir waited perhaps thirty seconds. "Who do you owe allegiance to?"

"To you. And not only my allegiance."

Gellert snorted, but his heir simply looked pleased . Well enough. Allegiance to his heir was allegiance to himself as long as she stayed true.

"Have you ever colluded with the British Ministry?"

"Never. I've hated them for nearly as long as I've known of their existence." Hermione nodded, but Gellert stepped in, curious. "Why?"

"Because they did nothing. They knew I was magical and until I was eleven years old they left me in a Muggle hell-hole. They had the school list, they knew. And no one cared."

Hermione handed him the antidote rather quickly, but Gellert was pleased to know the boy's true motivation. One always knew what a man would do when you knew what drove them.

The rest of his inner circle was rather dull. Lestrange was predictably slavish in her devotion, as he'd long known. His generals were reasonably loyal, within certain limits. The only real surprise came from Bassett. "Your loyalty?"

The handsome man grimaced. "To you my, lord…only you. I do not care if the Empire burns if that is your will."

Gellert was a bit surprised that the man had shifted so far away from his original sense of self-preservation, but pleased….Bassett was a poor substitute for Albus, but he was decidedly more bearable than Lestrange on her own.

As his men began their careful questioning of their own underlings, Gellert waved his chosen few into an anteroom with refreshments. It was a good night to be the Emperor.

 **HJGHJG**

Hermione kept her face very still as she scanned the room. If any sympathizers were found in Gellert's purge, she wouldn't be able to help them. She felt Tom's hand squeeze her own in sympathy.

She caught Jean Marie-Bassett's eye and the man nodded pleasantly to her without any indication that he'd recently tried to abandon Gellert and his crusade. Of course, he had no memory of ever doing so.

She'd known almost immediately that there was little they could do with Jean Marie to be certain he wouldn't turn on them. So she'd had Abraxas offer him a deal of sorts. He would go back, under the Imperious curse, and act like the loyal follower of Gellert's he'd never been, instead of the self-serving toady he really was.

Her attention turned to Gellert, who was currently beaming at them. His 'inner circle' was smaller than it had once been, but he was reasonably sure that they were loyal now…and they probably were. As far as Hermione knew, only Jean Marie had known about the truth serum, and he was only aware because Gellert had used his gold to buy ingredients for the enormous cauldron of truth potion currently being ingested drop by drop. She had been right about Jean Marie…he was a coward, but he was a valuable coward.

"My dear ones. Our moment of greatness is upon us. I realize that tight rations and low moral have nagged our progress, but we will not face the same obstacles in England as we did in France. We will take Wizarding Britain quickly, and the Muggle government has already agreed to pay me a fine fee to leave their cow-like citizens to their own devices, a step we will allow, for the time being. Once the Wizards of a country are out of the way, herding the Muggle masses is child's play. They don't even need to know about the existence of magic, a few well-placed curses on their leaders and they'll never know." He chuckled richly and a few of the generals joined him. "We will be busy putting down pockets of resistance…and then, before the world can react, we will take Wizarding Sydney and Wizarding New York in the same day. "

Hermione frowned. "Won't that overextend our forces?"

Gellert waved her off. "It would have before we took Britain. Once we take Hogwarts, we'll have all the leverage we need to make every adult witch or wizard bow to our decrees."

She allowed a certain amount of joy to grace her face, as if she looked forward to such a thing. "And Hogwarts will fall quickly?"

Gellert grinned. "I have a spy that will bring my men into the castle at daybreak as the others are attacking the Ministry. Other groups will portkey in to various protected private homes around the island. Most will fall on the same morning and the rest will be isolated while we move forward with our plans." He waved them to the refreshment tables. "I will deal with my darling Albus personally."

Hermione caught Tom's eye. They needed to find a way to get out without arousing suspicion.

"You managed to imperious the new Divination professor?"

Gellert grinned. "Child's play. They think that the village is so very safe…letting the urchins and the professors frolic there without a single Auror in sight. It's very sloppy."

Hermione let her true grimace show on her face. "Very."

"I have rooms for you my dear, down the hall from my own, with separate rooms for Tom on the other side of the castle with the rest of the guard."

Hermione didn't roll her eyes. There was no chance she was going to sleep in this deathtrap, and even less chance she'd sleep without Tom beside her.

She didn't let her thoughts show on her face. It seemed that half of her interaction with Gellert was spent policing her own expression. Tom was better at it. She wasn't certain if his control was the result of years in the orphanage or if it was some inborn talent, but whatever the cause, his acting would always be a shade better than her own. Still, she was good enough. She smiled at Gellert and said pleasantly, "That sounds delightful. You don't expect me to return to Hogwarts until your forces attack?"

"No my dearest heir. I will not put such a choice hostage into Albus' hands, even if it means worrying him that you have disappeared. It is just New Year's Eve. He will not fret if he doesn't see you before class starts on the day after tomorrow, and by that time, I will have Hogwarts under my control."

"As long as your spy manages to open the castle for you."

"Yes, it does hinge on that. But if she fails, I'll simply send you in. You'll tell Albus that you were kidnapped and escaped or some nonsense like that."

Tom smiled at her and she grinned back, allowing Gellert to believe that they approved of his cleverness. In truth, there was a good chance the ruse would have worked…if they hadn't been double agents.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom closed the door of Hermione's suite quietly just after midnight. Hermione was pacing, waiting for Albus to answer the message she'd sent via a two-way diary he had charmed quickly when they had received the summons earlier in the day.

He'd mentioned that if they got caught or stuck, they could simply send a patronus. Hermione had worried her bottom lip fretfully for a long moment. "I think we need a plan. I know Gellert isn't going to want us to return before the battle, and frankly, I want there to be no going back before we abandon our posts. I also don't want alert Gellert with spells going through his wards. Who knows if his warding is good enough to react to a patronus bounding through it. No, we need a way to communicate without alerting him."

Tom had thought for a long moment about the spells on two-way mirrors, and engineered a spell that would allow two people to write to each other over distance.

Hermione had looked at him with an expression he couldn't really fathom for a short moment, and then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

"I hope Albus opens his post this evening." Hermione nodded.

They hadn't mentioned to Albus that they were leaving the castle. He would have objected. Hermione had simply sent him a letter and the diary via evening owl post. It was unusual enough so that it really should get his attention.

Tom stared at her neat handwriting in the enchanted diary for a long moment. "Perhaps we should have made certain to get the message to him?"

Hermione shot him a dark look. "We're both wearing portkeys and Gellert doesn't realize we are animagi."

Tom smirked. "Though to be honest, two ruddy lions prancing about whatever Merlin-forsaken bit of Bulgarian real estate we're on would look fairly suspicious. We really should have tried to turn into something less conspicuous."

She snickered along with him, because they both knew he was trying to keep her spirits up.

Hermione's eye flicked to the diary once more. "Right…well, we're nothing if not creative. We can wing it if we need to."

Tom nodded. "How long do you want to wait before we leave?"

Hermione sighed. "We don't want to alert Gellert that something is wrong. We need to stay in place until the very last minute. I'll transform and go outside the wards in my animagus form if need be to send a patronus to warn them that Gellert is coming if we need to."

Tom nodded. " _We will_. No splitting up at this late date. We need to stay together. It would be difficult to escape with the portkeys if we can't see that the other one is leaving…and worse, neither of us would want to leave the other. I know you, my love. You would endure far too much at Gellert's hands rather than use the protection you so cleverly made if it meant leaving me behind. And so, since you can't be trusted…"

She laughed and kissed his lips until they were strawberry pink. Which would have been a rather embarrassing circumstance if he'd given it any thought at all.


	89. Chapter 89

_**AN: I think for the last few chapters I'm going to have to write them and get them out whenever I can. I would love to have a set schedule to inspire me, but next weekend is Christmas eve and I also have a funeral on the 23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **, so I know it's going to be busy.**_

 _ **I need to take a moment to thank all of you for coming along with me on this journey.**_

 _ **Also, I have a question: When I revise this story, should I leave the author's notes? They make an interesting counterpoint to the story, and they make me feel close with all of you…but they throw off the legitimate word count. Does that bother anyone? I plan to start the revision as soon as I finish, but I won't post until the whole thing is done. There will be 'bonus scenes' that won't be marked in any way…showing instead of telling some of the bits I just skimmed in this first version…and also, I'm going to fix the timeline problem. I know there are some spelling, grammar, and typos too. Anything else bother you guys? Let me know the chapter and the problem.**_

Albus found himself very busy that New Year's eve. Walter and Heather Weasley (both first years) had made fast friends with the second year Prewet, Aubrey, and her cousin Angelica (who was, in fact, not at all angelic, in Albus' well studied opinion.) This friendship had led more than one prefect or Professor to take points, give detentions, and in the case of Albus Dumbledore, pour himself a very generous measure of firewhiskey after missing dinner in the Great Hall.

Edvard tried to hide his chuckles as Albus described their attempt to capture a young unicorn for riding…and the mother unicorn's hoof prints on the backsides of said students. "And by the time they were thrown off the unicorn, they were in the great bloody middle of Forbidden Forrest, and I had to ask the Centaurs to help me track the little buggers, and you know they'll call that favor in sooner rather than later."

Edvard shrugged. "All's well that ends well. Hopefully your friends will content themselves with some goblin forged arrow heads. And you should make Dippet pay for them since it was in the best interest of the school to get the little berks back before they froze to death."

Albus took a long drink. "I'll be in luck if he doesn't dock my pay for taking time off my rounds to search for them. The old skinflint."

Edvard grinned like a shark. "I'm going to enjoy watching you try to balance the school budget when you become headmaster during the next few years."

Albus rolled his eyes. "I'd say that your penchant for sadism comes as a surprise, but then, it really doesn't."

"Is it really sadism if you have safe words and both of you enjoy it?" Edvard purred, "Would you like to see more of my penchant?"

Albus blushed furiously. He wasn't certain how he would have answered, but he knew where the night would have led…but about that time a loud knocking at his window startled both of them.

"What in Merlin's name?"

One of the school owls sat on the ledge, looking quite cold and put out. Albus hustled the bird in and Fawkes made room on his perch, snuggling close and warming the other creature as only a phoenix could.

Albus poured a small measure of firewhiskey for the bird and untied his package.

Edvard put his chin on his shoulder and watched. "Early Christmas gift?"

Albus shook his head, suddenly worried. "It's from Tom and Hermione."

As he read the note he felt a sudden urge to hex something into a pile of fine dust, but couldn't overcome his shock to pull his wand. Edvard pulled the letter from his nerveless fingers and let loose with a string of profanity that was surprisingly inventive.

Albus took a deep breath and shook off the shock that held him immobile. He opened the diary and found a message stating the time and expected numbers of the attacks. Edvard continued cursing as he and Albus frantically wrote letters to the Aurors who were ready and waiting for those portkeys that hadn't already been deactivated.

Edvard finished his last letter and looked up. "What do you think?"

"We're still outnumbered, but we can set some traps, and his additional 'cannon fodder' will simply stay at home because they aren't forced to fight…Malfoy and Ivanova saw to that. The real danger is Gellert coming here." Albus had dreaded the moment when he would be forced to duel Gellert for so many years…

Edvard wrapped his long arms around him. "Let's go take care of the spy and set up a place so you can meet him on your own ground."

"And what about Hermione and Tom?"

Edvard laughed. "Unless they ask for help, let them stay where they are. Those two turned the tide of the war and saved who knows how many lives. Can you imagine how depleted the wizarding world would be if they hadn't stepped in?"

Albus frowned. "I admit, I hadn't thought of it that way." And now that he had, he wondered…was there some kind of cosmic reason for Hermione's odd gift? For the nearly unnatural skill that she and Tom possessed?

He shook off his musing and grabbed a sober-up potion in one hand and a heavy cloak in the other. Fawks nuzzled the school owl one last time and flew to his shoulder. "Oh, you are coming with me, my old friend?"

The phoenix nodded sagely and nuzzled his cheek. "Very well. Let's go win a war."

TMRTMR

The eventual note from Albus in diary eased his mind in the early morning hours.

Hermione smiled as she woke from a light doze. He knew it wasn't true sleep. He'd seen her alert a millisecond after opening her eyes. She just sometimes allowed her mind to drift as she rested with her eyes closed before stressful situations…and betraying a dark lord at an opportune moment would certainly qualify.

"Albus got the message?"

Tom nodded thoughtfully. "They've taken the professor Gellert hexed and given her a drought of living death so she won't be able to meddle."

Hermione grimaced. "We need to find a way to show definitively if someone is under the Imperious."

Tom chuckled as he stroked her curls. "The spell would certainly become less popular if the results could be proven." He kissed her softly. "We'll look into it after…" He took a deep breath. "At least as long as we both survive and we win." He kissed her, harder this time, allowing some of the fear he was feeling to show itself in his fevered embrace.

Hermione responded with kisses of her own, and they spent the early morning hours clutched in sweaty embrace with each other's names on their lips.

Tom finally rolled to one side, touching only her fingertips. They were both slick with sweat and he knew they wouldn't cool off if her clung to her like a python.

He turned his head and grinned sheepishly at her as they caught their breath. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, hair wild, and he thought she'd never looked as beautiful.

She rolled to an elbow and kissed him softly. "Have I mentioned lately that you are amazing?"

"I think it might have come about half an hour ago when I…"

She kissed him again, stopping his words, but they were both laughing as their lips lingered. She settled a bit closer and he pulled a light sheet over them as their bodies cooled.

She smiled up at him as they held one another. "I can't promise that we'll get through tomorrow unscathed. I have no idea what the future holds."

Tom grimaced. "You don't need to sound quite so smug about that. Having some small idea that we'd both get through this alive would be pleasant."

She shook her head. "All I know is that the future I wanted to prevent can never come to be now. Whatever else happens, I'm content."

"Well, I'm not witch." He mock-glared at her. "So you'd better be very, very cautious tomorrow, or I'll have to use that resurrection stone to bring you back."

She rolled her eyes. "That stone is a trap. It's the bait to lure people to death, not the route to bringing the living back. Hurried visits from beyond the grave from those you lost…it would drive many people to suicide."

"Then you'd better stick around to keep me out of trouble."

She rolled her eyes and then sobered. "Just remember what we are Tom. Even if I were to die, I'd be waiting for you. We'll always find each other again."

And for once in his life, Tom found himself without words…so he slowly began the process of making love to her once again, because he needed her to understand that the last thing he wanted was to spend another lifetime looking for her.

Not that he would hesitate of course. Not for a moment.

GGGGGG

Gellert admired himself in his best green and gold robes. His golden hair was brushed until it shined like goblin gold and the deathstick was deadly perfection in his fingers. He looked powerful, irritable, and dead sexy, even if he did have to say it himself because no one else would dare.

Lestrange pouted from her place at his side. He'd forgone all 'company' of her sort for the past few days, anticipating a reunion with Albus in every sense of the word. He'd allowed the elves into his private quarters to clean them, to make certain every implement and surface shown with perfection. So that it was all very ready for Albus. It wouldn't do to spoil the man, but he was indulgent enough to show subtle marks of his favor.

Gellert smirked at Lestrange and they made their way out of his chambers and into the anteroom.

Tom and Hermione entered. Despite their youth, they both looked well-shagged and Gellert had a long moment of annoyance, and then he let the petty thoughts go.

Had he wanted the girl's virginity? Well yes. He was a greedy sod and he enjoyed being a greedy sod. But, on the other hand, he would have his hands full with taming Albus once again, and it was unlikely that he would have the time and energy to truly bring the girl to heel in such a way that would leave her useful to him.

So…let her have her lover. It wasn't as if the boy was an impediment to him seducing her…in face he might make for a nice dash of spice if they both chose to come to him.

Besides, if he allowed her to marry the boy, then it would provide excellent cover for when she gave birth to the mixture of his and Albus' seed. He was absolutely committed that she would be the vessel that would bear them the next generation of world rulers. He'd even allow her a brat or two with the boy.

He and Albus could busy themselves with the empire, while Tom and Hermione projected the perfect picture of the aristocratic family for the public…all the while doing research into immortality for the four of them.

They would be one, big, happy immortal family…like the Gods of Olympus.

He twirled the deathstick, whistling a happy tune as he walked jauntily out to his destiny.


	90. Chapter 90

AN: I am sorry this took so long to get out. Here at the end of the story, I want everything to be as good as it can be, so it doesn't change much when I revise…so I went back and re-read the whole thing, twice. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed over the past weeks. Those little notices keep this story on my mind. I will try to give you guys the next bit next Sunday.

Tom watched as the upper-crust of Gellert's court milled around, waiting for the dictator to lead them into the next battle. Though their robes were made of fine fabrics and their accents were refined, there were very few 'soft' courtiers present. The ones who attended the initial invasion were generally hard-eyed veterans of many conflicts. These were wizards and witches with taste for blood as well as power. But first and foremost, the courtiers were politicians, so they milled around, exchanging information.

Gellert swept in, his whip-thin body clothed in sumptuous robes, Lestrange at his heel, almost mirroring his clothing in her own choice. Basset trailed a few steps behind in jacquard and lace that would have been more fitting during the reign of the Sun King. Tom caught Hermione's eye and they both repressed smiles over the man's dandified appearance.

He slipped into her mind. He'd hoped that she would be considering the timing of their eventual desertion of Gellert and his cronies, but her mind was largely taken up with giggles about Jean Marie's fashion sense. Tom caught her eye and flicked his own toward the door.

Her thoughts followed his seamlessly.

Her feelings were as warm and rich as caramel in his mind. _We have to wait until the portkeys are activated._

He considered it. Part of him wanted to actively betray Gellert on the battlefield where the man could see it…a slap in the face… a final denial of everything he stood for. But the practical part of Tom knew that leaving was a good plan. They would be lost in the mass of bodies and Gellert wouldn't know for certain that they had deserted him, leaving options open on the off chance that the man wasn't captured during the battle.

Tom knew that Hermione would prefer to see things through to the end (capturing the despot with their own wands), but that would most likely mean firing spells on their own side…

Her fingers laced through his. He knew, without even being in her mind that she would have risked her own life with careless ease if he hadn't been beside her. He fought down a wave of rage that threatened to flow out of his head and onto his face.

Now was not the time to lose control. Later, when the war was won…well, she at least wouldn't be caught in the middle of Gellert Grindelwald and Albus. That had to count for something.

Gellert beamed at his compatriots, capturing the attention of the entire room with a single motion. "Should I say once more into the breach dear friends?" The crowd of grizzled wizards and a few rough-looking witches chuckled darkly. "You are all aware of the objectives. You know the price of failure and glory of victory. Today, we take Great Britain. Tomorrow, the world!" He grinned maniacally and raised his wand over his head like a saber. "Portkeys." Gleaming badges were passed around the crowd. Gellert beamed like a madman. "In five..four.." Gellert looked around and took Hermione's left hand in his own.

Tom cursed violently in his head. So much for 'getting lost.'

Tom grabbed Hermione's right hand and they shared a warm look as Gellert finished his countdown. "Three, two, one."

 **AMAMAM**

"What do you mean they aren't back yet?"

Edvard was busily giving orders to the witches and wizards that were rushing to meet the 'sudden' invasion. The fact that the majority of the country was still clueless was a testament to both the average wizard's ability to ignore the obvious, and a deliberate breakdown of the nations press reporting as they ought. As close as he was with various Ministry officials, Abraxas suddenly decided that he would quietly finance a small privately held news source. Gellert obviously had supporters inside the Daily Prophet. The wizarding world needed more than one way to get their news. He'd talk to Hermione and Tom about it once they won the war…

Abraxas grabbed Albus' arm. "Explain."

Albus rolled his eyes and waved on Fawkes, who was waiting patiently for another missive to be tied to his leg.

"They haven't returned, though we have been in contact. And frankly, I don't know who you've been dealing with the past few years, but Hermione generally does exactly what she thinks is best without consulting any of the rest of us. She's not back because she doesn't want to be back."

Abraxas growled. "That's all well and good for an excuse, but what if something actually happened to them Albus?"

The man turned his blue eyes. "Then I shall be very sorry indeed Abraxas. The world will lose two of the most promising young people I've ever taught. But I wasn't consulted on this mission before she left. My opinion certainly wasn't sought in the matter of return times. I'm not bloody well responsible."

Abraxas reigned in his desire to punch Albus in the face. "You are though. You are the adult."

"She's an adult. And so, as of last night, is Tom."

"Legallly."

"Do you think Gellert spares the children he encounters because they aren't legally allowed to fight? I know you've heard the stories, and if you haven't, allow me to make this clear: The only reason he didn't take her, rape her, and send her barely breathing body back to me is because she was powerful and willing to fight. When they were abducted, from your ballroom I might add…Gellert would have seduced them if he could, but raped them if he couldn't. His weapon of choice has always been to sexually dominate those around him first. So yes. Hermione and Tom are barely legal to take up arms against Gellert, but since Gellert and his army do not spare the children who do not fight, it makes good sense for anyone who can raise a wand to put it to their own defense, as there will be no quarter given to those who don't fight."

"I'm not quibbling about them fighting old man. I'm quibbling because I suspect you didn't even demand they return once the portkeys were activated. Can't you see that their position is going to become far more dangerous as the day goes on and Gellert comes to understand that he's been betrayed? They are literally surrounded by foes."

Albus paled.

"You didn't even think of that did you? We have teams waiting at every port key and you didn't think Gellert Grindelwald would notice that something was up? That someone betrayed him?"

"I was hoping he'd be too busy dueling myself actually."

Abraxas slammed down his fist on the table and swirled his cloak around his body in a loud rush. "I hope you are right, because if anything happens to them, you and I will duel."

Edvard reached out and put a restraining hand on Abraxas' shoulder. "You need to calm down and present a united front."

Abraxas snarled. "Do you think I'm an idiot? You'll get your united front, for now. But I'm going to send Hermione a message."

"She's in the middle of enemy territory."

"She's supposed to be a double agent."

Edvard shrugged and shoved a diary into his chest. "Here. Use this. She and Tom have the other one. You can contact her if she has time to answer. It's better than announcing to the world that you love her by sending a panicked patronus."

Abraxas felt his jaw clinch. "First of all, a message from her 'friends' would be totally in character if she were the double agent she is pretending to be. Don't be so daft as to think I'd mention anything I shouldn't." His fingers tightened over the diary.

Edvard raised a sardonic brow. "And secondly?"

"Piss off. And keep your albino nose out of my personal life."

If he heard a sardonic chuckle coming out of the room as he strode away, Abraxas was Slytherin enough to ignore it. He wasn't entirely certain his heart could take a close examination of where his affections truly lay, and so he did his best to ignore them. Surviving was one of the things Slytherins did best, after all.

HJGHJG

Damn Gellert Grindelwald to whatever hell was awaiting him. They'd barely recovered from the portkey when they were fighting for their lives on the edge of Hogsmead. She spun and cast with every bit of finesse she could summon…driving Gellert's forces into spells meant for her, using powerful-looking but harmless stunning spells on foes on the other side, and them releasing them far sooner than the spell should have allowed.

Tom was dueling with lazy flicks f his wand, looking bored as he struck down foe after foe with her 'torture curse', leaving them panting and looking like they'd been tortured, but with no memory of it and little damage to their bodies. The enraged fighters then picked up their wands and attacked the troupes to the rear of the fighting. Gellert had only deigned to bring his elite troupes in his own contingent, so he had not, as yet, heard that his conscripted farmers and artisans had not joined the fray. He was too busy glorying in the battle…long hair shining in the breeze, his manic laughter rolling through the village as he dodged spells and made each victim last as long as possible before killing them in bloody, painful, inventive ways.

She hit Lestrange with a silent tripping jinx so that the woman's slicing spell hit Gellert. Unfortunately, his shield cloak was still working. He did lose interest in the man he was torturing, and went to rail against Lestrange, which allowed her victim to crawl away behind a barrel of butterbeer. Hermione cast a non-verbal 'don't-see-me' spell to hide the man.

As they argued, she waved the men along, taking up the 'guard' position herself, and deflecting the curses sent their way harmlessly. Tom took the other side, his eyes asking if it was time to abandon the fight and head to the castle to join Albus. She shook her head. They were doing too much good inside the fight and the residents of Hogsmead would be the better for them being there fighting. She shot a mild healing spell at the man behind the barrel, and watched his eyes widen as he realized what she'd done. She placed her finger over her lips and gave him a little smile, and he nodded like he understood.

She turned to Gellert. "We need to get to the castle. We're wasting too much time subduing the village. They've probably already sent word."

Lestrange turned to her, obviously angry. "We have someone in the owl office."

Tom snorted. "Owls aren't the only way to send messages in this village. Let's forget about secret passages to the castle, the occasional spell, communication mirrors, and some quick child with a hippogriff…all it would really take was one of the portraits to be visiting from the castle…"

Both Gellert and Lestrange paled.

Then Gellert laughed.

"Ah well, the element of surprise was never my strong suit in any case. Let's go see if my spy has the way open to the castle."

Lestrange fell into step as he strode up the hill. "And if she doesn't my lord?"

He looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Then my dear, we make a way. Call the troops."

GGGGGG

Gellert felt, rather than saw his men forming behind him as he passed the groups fighting. They left the villagers incapacitated and helpless, but alive. After all, he could come back and finish them off at his leisure as soon as he removed the school and the Ministry as obstacles. By nightfall, the nation would be under his command and within a week they would be far too cowed to protest. It generally took killing a bout twenty percent of the wizarding population in either battles or execution to drive the will to fight from an area. Oh, there would be one or two brave fools who made statements as freedom fighters (or terrorists as his propaganda styled them) but the only real resistance he'd ever encountered was Ivanova.

As they approached the wards, he looked for his spy, almost indulging in a giggle as he considered Albus' reaction. Would his old paramour indulge in hysterics? Demand a duel? Fall into his arms? Not likely. In fact, Gellert rather hoped that Albus would be defiant, at least for a little while. Defiance would give him a reason to do all the things he so wanted to do to Albus…not that he would refrain in any case, it was just so much sweeter to be able to break the spirit at the same time one was breaking the body.

Gellert saw a strong disillusionment charm seconds before it began to dissipate.

Standing before him, protected by the wards was a group of hard-eyed witches and wizards…professors from the school, the Malfoy scion, no few aurors, some students, a few centaurs, and five very angry-looking thestrals beside a half-giant.

In front of them all was Albus Dumbledore with an extravagant looking Frenchman by his side.

He smirked at his once and future lover.

"Moving on from the departed Olivander rather quickly I see."

The man beside Albus chuckled lightly and waved his wand, revealing the fish-faced auror.

Gellert snarled. "I see that Smith missed the mark after all."

Albus shrugged. "Your assassin was overpowered and met a sticky end, yes."

"No matter. I'd really rather kill Olivander myself." He batted his eyes at Albus. "If you are a very good boy love, I'll do it quickly. Just surrender the school and yourself to me right now, and I'll make it short and relatively painless. "

Albus pretended to think about his offer for a moment, but Gellert could see he had no intention of doing so.

Gellert's eyes searched the crowd for his spy. The woman should have the wards down any second…

"Why would I surrender Gellert? My school is safe behind wards even you can't break without significantly more witches and wizards than you currently command. And your spy has been…shall we say she's been relieved of duty. She's currently sleeping in one of the dungeons under a drought of living death until we can verify that your imperious curse has been neutralized."

Gellert grinned. Ah Albus. How he loved the way the man made life interesting. It was so boring without him. Even his dear Hermione and Tom were less interesting…

"I suppose I'll just have to wait a few hours to break the wards until my forces destroy the Ministry. And Diagon Alley. And every wizarding village and nook and cranny in this country. And then I will bring the entire force here, to your school. And once we crack Hogwarts open like an egg, I will allow my witches and wizards to do whatever they like with the people inside." He caught the eyes of those on Albus' side, letting them know what was in store for them. "That will be the fate of your students if you refuse me Albus. Every scream, every moan, every cut and bruise, and every single death will be because of you, and I will never allow you to forget them. If you surrender, you'll be given an honored place in my court. If I have to come and get you, I will keep you like a dog, chained at my feet."

To Gellert's everlasting shock….Albus started to chuckle. "You know, I spent so much time dreading this confrontation…and yet, now that's it's here, I only feel relief. No matter what happens today Gellert, I will never again have to listen to tales of you harming others and think to myself that I responsible for your evil. I am finally taking my stand and raising my wand against you. I will never again stay idly by while you harm innocents. From this day on, no matter the outcome of this attack, I will meet you at every turn, wand raised, ready to defend those who cannot defend themselves."

Gellert marveled at the change in Albus for a split second and then quipped, "That will be a bit hard to do from the foot of my throne with my chain around your neck."

Albus smirked…actually smirked. "If you think that I would live my life as anything other than a free wizard, then you never knew me at all."

Gellert felt cold dread curling in the pit f his stomach as this creature that resembled his old lover eyed him with nothing more than distaste.

"I challenge you. Winner leaves Great Britain and never returns."

Gellert pulled a shadow of his usual arrogance to his face, though every instinct he had was warning him to leave. He couldn't back down over a bloody feeling! He'd lose face with his army. "Name your second." `


	91. Chapter 91

_**AN: I want to thank each and every one of you who have been with me for this. There have been so many great reviews…and I have read each and every one multiple times, and kept all of them in a folder. They meant so much to me. Did you know that we're close to two years on this story? Can you imagine? I thought I could wrap it up in a year! (Ha! I scoff at the naiveté of my past self!) This obviously is not the last chapter. I'm not certain how many more we can expect to actually wrap it up. It is a bittersweet thing, being this close to the end. I'll try to post again next Sunday.**_

Albus hadn't expected that he would feel a fierce joy when he and Gellert finally bowed in the dueling circle. He'd imagined the moment over the years with literally dozens of emotions: heart-ache, loss, fear, scorn, anger, despair…but the adrenalin-fueled battle joy that was coursing through his veins never occurred to him.

When Gellert had shrugged off the need for seconds (invalidating the duel under every set of rules except the Roman Legion Codex, and those standards hadn't been used by anyone in a century) Albus just shrugged, despite Edvard's obvious dislike of the notion.

The crowd was loudly arguing. "A bond then, if there is no need for seconds. I find that certain events…" his eyes rested on Hermione for a moment, playing his part "have made me somewhat less trusting than I was all those years ago."

Gellert snorted. "Very well. The wizard that loses this duel shall never set foot in England again."

Albus kept his careful mask, but they both knew that left quite a bit open. Hogwarts was in Scotland, after all, not England. And much could be done without setting foot in a place when one had magic.

"Agreed." Albus took a deep breath, adrenalin made his mind seem calm, but he knew he needed to begin the fight soon. Gellert had been dueling in life and death situations for the last fifty years. Albus needed every advantage he could garner. "Who shall bind it?"

Gellert grinned manically. "Oh let's use your dear Edvard, Albus."

Edvard stood at his side, fearless. He nodded in his laconic way, obviously unimpressed with Gellert's leering. He caught Albus' eye and leaned over. Warm breath tickled his ear. "Wipe that smug smile off his face, won't you?"

Albus felt his lips curl into an involuntary smile. Gellert's leer faded slightly around the edges.

He clasped hands with his old love for the last time, and from his angle, he could see that the dark magic and insanity had robbed him of the magnetic draw that he'd once felt. Albus knew then that his heart was fully engaged with Edvard, and love made him stronger In the face of Gellert. When Edvard asked him to make the vow, his voice rang out clear and unhurried….slightly amused. Tiny lines in Gellert's face deepened, and Albus knew that it was not what he'd been expecting when he took his hand.

At the last moment, as Edvard was almost ready to end the spell, Gellert's hand shot out and he splintered the other man's wand with a nasty jinx.

"No bond! No duel. Kill them all."

 **HJGHJGHJG**

She should have bloody well known Gellert would cheat. The fact that he stopped Edvard in the middle of an unbreakable vow was suicidal and stupid, but it really shouldn't have surprised her.

She tossed up anti-apparition wards as Gellert and Albus' wands flashed. She hit Edvard with a mild healing spell for his fractured hand, caught General Ivan's hand when he wasn't looking and landed an elbow in his nose so he dropped his wand, then made certain it rolled over to the unarmed Edvard.

Ivan realized that her action was deliberate, but Tom stunned him silently.

Lestrange saw Tom and screeched at him, but he took her down easily with a stunner and a body-bind. Gellert had finally noticed their antics, and he was distracted from his duel with Albus long enough for the man to draw first blood.

His eyes widened as he put two and two together. Then he hit Albus with a rage-fueled barrage of dark curses that the man had to dance around, over, between, and through. Hermione was certain there was at least one killing curse in there.

He aimed at the ground beside him, and did _something_ non-verbally. Suddenly, all the wizards that were assigned to other places in Brittan started popping into the field outside Hogwarts.

Tom yelled, "He's reactivated the portkeys!"

Hermione growled as the fighting became pitched on every side and she lost track of Tom for a moment. It should have been impossible for him to remotely recall that many portkeys.

She stopped trying to save Gellert's men and start dueling to kill.

She found Tom, with Abraxas and Jean Marie, dueling back to back. Jean Marie was still under Tom's imperious curse, so his dueling was on par with Tom's own…which made him someone you wanted at your back.

They were outnumbered badly, but they were holding their own.

Moments narrowed. Curse, shield, dodge…hex, jinx, roll…above all, remove the obstacles in between her and Tom.

Hermione littered her path with fallen bodies as she made her way to him. He saw her, and his shoulders sagged with relief. They were out-numbered, yes, but Gellert's forces were hampered by the lack of leadership. They were fighting in a melee style, whereas if they had organized a bit and concentrated their efforts, they might have overpowered the small force in front of Hogwarts and won the day.

But Gellert had never encouraged innovation among his ranks.

And Gellert himself looked like a madman as he dueled Albus alone. Neither man seemed to want help as the complicated and deadly spells whooshed across the field between them. Tom snuck out his wand as she neared and disabled all of the shield cloaks on Gellert's side.

She joined him as he used a blood boiling curse on a group of five with predictable results. It was a messy, messy way to go. Jean-Marie spilled profanity as he shot a cleansing spell at his ridiculous shoes.

She smiled up at Tom as she removed the heads from two of the wizards coming at them.

He didn't flinch as he kissed her. "I wanted to make sure he was fully engaged before we showed our hand." He meant the shield cloaks…the final betrayal. Gellert had made a noise when Tom finished the release, but she'd lost sight of them momentarily.

She nodded at Tom and together they finished off a group that had organized enough to rush them. Tom turned to help Abraxas with half a dozen that had identified him as the weakest of the four…Hermione shot a spell at a wild-haired witch that had Edvard cornered.

Suddenly there was a bright flash, and a few notes of Phoenix song. Hermione locked eyes with Tom and they started moving toward Albus as one unit.

Fawkes was in the middle of the battle, a tiny phoenix hatchling and Hermione knew instantly what had happened. The bird had taken what would have been a fatal blow for Albus.

She could see the sweat running down both of their faces as they cast vicious curses as one another.

Gellert looked entirely mad in his battle rage. Albus looked like he might be a bit out of breath, but the smile was still on his lips.

"Do you always encourage your pets to die for you, my dear Albus?"

Albus scoffed and sent an entrail-expelling curse at the other man, who caught the edge of it, but managed to cast the counter on himself before expelling anything more than a loud belch.

"My familiar is a phoenix old man. Which in case you have forgotten, is entirely immortal."

"Perhaps I should pick him up and keep hi once I've killed you."

Albus smirked. "Oh, I invite you to try. Even young phoenixes have more than enough magic to avoid capture. They only stay where they choose to stay. And Fawkes is perhaps the most loyal of his kind. I doubt you would live very long at all should you kill me and attempt to keep him."

He and Gellert dueled like fencing masters, whirling, parrying, twisting, and dodging as they fired spells between conversation, each searching for a weakness.

Hermione saw that someone had released Lestrange and she was creeping up on one side. She shot a killing curse at the woman without hesitation.

Tom looked at her with wide eyes as he faltered slightly against a Baltic wizard with a very large mustache. "You have to mean it, you know."

He nodded at her. "I do."

Gellert's other officers might have been confused about why his heir was quite clearly fighting on the other side…but they didn't hesitate to turn their wands on her as she and Tom neared the duel. Jean Marie and Abraxas trailed behind them, and Hermione risked turning and clearing their path.

She turned back and saw that Gellert was holding a shield while staring at herself and Tom with a cold, ugly look on his face.

"Once I kill you Albus, I could kill your little spies. But I won't. The one thing they didn't lie about was their attachment to one another. If you have the boy, the girl will do your bidding. If you threaten the girl, the boy would endure anything."

Albus scoffed. "I don't think you are wizard enough to kill me, old friend…and enslaving that duo is far beyond your capabilities. If you push the girl, she'll die to free the boy."

Tom's hand clinched on his wand as he blasted foes into nothing.

Hermione calmly cleared a swath around them, littering the area with body parts from Gellert's men.

Albus seemed as if he were about to say something, and he took a nasty tripping jinx from behind.

Hermione watched Gellert leap forward in utter glee, ready to finish him. Pale fire leapt from his wand, surrounding Albus.

Albus let loose one last brilliant jet of light as he fell.

She felt the spell that engulfed Gellert as Albus rolled away from the flames.

Gellert's hand seemed to disintegrate, but he stopped the spell before it reached his wrist. Gellert was forced to switch hands, but Albus was on his back, still smoldering.

She and Tom stepped forward as one.

They didn't bow. They didn't give him time to talk. They simply hexed and cursed, and moved like two part of the same whole as they rounded on him. They both had shield cloaks. Gellert's cloak was a smoldering ruin since Tom had canceled the charm.

Gellert looked at them with real regret. "We could have been great you know."

Hermione nodded as she parried another nasty jinx. He was fighting for his life now, and Gellert was a creative wizard with a gift for getting out of difficult situations.

"Yes. If you had been more like Albus, we could have been great. As it is, we'll just have to toddle along without you. You've done too much harm Gellert. You can't be allowed to continue."

Tom used the distraction of the discussion. He sent an exquisitely timed disarming charm at Gellert, and for the second time in her existence, Hermione saw the most evil wizard of an age undone with a simple spell.

The bone-white wand flew toward Tom's hand, and Hermione shot it out of the air with a blasting curse. The elder wand splintered and fell to the ground with an inhuman screech.

The battle around them stilled for a long moment, and then, with a sudden motion, dozens of wizards began to run for the edge of the anti-apparition wards. Others fought on with manic zeal, unable to see a future without the riches and glory they had been promised by Gellert.

Albus was on the ground, Edvard by his side. Gellert, alive and bound, looked at the pair with a look in his eyes that was hard to contemplate.

 **TMRTMR**

Tom helped mop up the few remaining zealots, but didn't give chase to the ones that ran. He might eventually…but today was not that day.

He watched as healers worked on Albus. He wrapped an arm tightly around Hermione. She was warm against his side with strands of hair tickling his cheek in the morning breeze. Both of them kept their wand hands at the ready, even as they held each other.

Had it really only been a little over an hour? Could that many lives be altered so completely in so short a span of time?

It was, and it could. Life was brilliant and beautiful, but so very fragile. He looked down at the girl in his arms and held her just a bit tighter.

Albus looked up and smiled as the healer helped him to his feet.

Together, the trio turned to Gellert.

Albus sighed. "Perhaps we can re-establish his prison, release the people he put there and make it safe enough to hold him."

Hermione snorted under Tom's arm.

"He'll be a cause of dissention for the rest of his life if we do that."

Gellert smirked from his place on the ground, confirming that he had no intention of staying quietly in some prison cell for the rest of his days. Like Napoleon on Elba Island, it would be impossible to keep it or him a secret forever.

Tom felt the obvious solution tumble from his lips. "We could just kill him." He didn't quite feel the utter indifference that his voice implied, but he had to admit, his dominate emotion would be relief if Gellert Grindelwald crossed the veil.

Hermione stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

"I think I have just the spell for him."

Her movements were subtle, but still seemed to imply dancing. The spell was complicated, whatever it was. It took her probably a full minute to cast it before a sickly lavender light left her wand and surrounded Gellert's head. His eyes rolled up in his head so that only the whites were visible. Spittle foamed at his mouth.

Albus looked at him with troubled eyes. "What did you do?"

Hermione pushed her hair back. "A spell. It works on the mind. He is reliving his life in his memories, from the point of view of those he harmed. He will feel what they felt. There is a very simple way out of the spell, if he ever truly repents and heals the damage he's done to his own soul. If he ever wakes, it will be because he managed to heal whatever was wrong with him that allowed him to do all the terrible things he did. The spell will encourage him to do that. If he doesn't, the spell will sustain his body for the rest of his natural life and he will lie there, trapped in his own mind, drooling and unable to do the least little thing until he breaths his last breath."

Her eyes looked ancient in her young face, like she had seen the birth of the cosmos.

Albus closed his eyes, perhaps in pain, but with an air of resignation.

Tom kissed her lightly and she was 'just' Hermione once more. Just the girl he loved. "It is more than he deserved."

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile, one aimed at herself. "Don't attribute too much goodness to me Tom. I had my reasons."

And Tom knew, in that moment, that she was also keeping Gellert's soul in a form where she could control it. Imprisoned in his body, but unable to do more damage to the world around him, Gellert was rendered useless to the darkness. It was easy to forget sometimes, that his love had been fighting on more than one level.

It was odd, he supposed, that anyone as flawed as he was supposedly a Champion of the Light. He didn't feel particularly like a mythical warrior for good. He felt mostly tied, and grubby, and he was pretty sure that there was some vomit on his shoe from someone losing their breakfast. The battlefield stench was bad (one part sewer, one part charnel house, one part something he couldn't describe), but if someone didn't clean it soon, it would get worse as the day warmed.

Tom shook his head. He knew that his mind was simply finding ways to buffer. He'd killed before. But he'd never seen that much death in one place. Now that the battle was over, he was having trouble focusing.

Edvard moved Gellert's unresponsive body with his toe. "In any case, we can claim victory today."

Albus looked down at the man he had loved and Tom watched a dozen emotions flit across his face. But then he looked up as Edvard, and something good and pure was shining in his eyes, something unhampered by the things that had come before.

Then Abraxas tossed an arm around both Hermione and Tom and grinned like a lunatic. "You lot had better have a way to make this tosser stop following me like a blasted hound. Those jacquard pantaloons he's sporting are giving me a bloody headache. And we won't even discuss the height on his heels or the fact that he thought jeweled buckles were appropriate for a battlefield." Abraxas sniffed as Tom examined the fashionably understated hunting boots the other man had chosen to wear. They weren't bejeweled buckles, but Tom would be anything the damn things had been shined using Champaign, and only a barrage of spells would have kept them dust and blood free after the battle.

He shook his head. Focus. He needed to focus.

Albus took one look at the ensemble and raised a brow. "Not my style, per se, but the lines are excellent."

Tom looked at Hermione first, then at Abraxas, and they started laughing, and they kept laughing until they were all sitting in the field next to the drooling former dictator.


	92. Chapter 92

_**AN: Not the last update! I swear this isn't the last chapter even though it kinda reads that way… This is just an intro to the end.**_

 _ **THIS WILL BE MY LAST UPDATE UNTIL I FINISH THE EDIT. I think this leaves it in a good enough place so that no one will go crazy while I edit it. I'm going to mark this 'complete', but the edit should include a lot of extra scenes, plus the epilogue. It might take a few months though. I'm not going to lie. I'm going to work on some original writing and finish a couple of very neglected fics that I left unsupervised while I was busy with this beast.**_

 _ **I've spent so much time on this fic that I don't really know how to give it up. Especially Abraxas. I know several readers are looking for his happily ever after…but I don't know that there is room left here to write it really, even if I knew who he was going to end up with…and I don't. I admit, like many of you, I've fallen a bit in love with him. It's hard to imagine a character that deserves him. That said, I am thinking of writing the epilogue during the Marauders time…give everyone a hint at how very much the Wizarding world changes because of the decisions of one pivotal person…and we'll find out what happens to Hermione and Tom…not to mention Albus and Hagrid and all the others.**_

 _ **Sorry it took so long to get this to you.**_

Hermione was shocked how quickly the last few weeks and months of school passed. ' _It had been much more convenient'_ , she thought as she tried to focus enough to scratch out another paper for Charms, _'how Harry's battles always seemed to come at the end of the school year'_.

The system had worked much better for her.

Now she found herself facing not only the adoring masses of students, but also the tedium of writing papers that did little more than prove she still remembered what she'd learned on her first go 'round.

It would have all been more than she could take, if it hadn't been for Tom.

Tom, who was still interested in taking the top spot on the NEWTS. Whose enthusiasm was still undiminished by the recent battles. He hadn't lost anyone he loved in the last dying gasps of the Great Wizarding War, as it was already being called. He was unsullied by the kind of entrenched regret that she'd held for so long after the Battle of Hogwarts. Tom, who was the single shining ray of sunlight as she battled the depression that _always_ followed saving the world.

Every damn time she came down off the adrenalin high, it was harder to go back to her 'normal'.

She and Harry had done it often enough as adults after all. Running the Ministry was not for the faint of heart.

"What's the matter love?"

They were in the Room of Requirement. She'd given the excuse that she couldn't study in the library, or even in the Slytherin common room…and Slytherin was miles above her old house when it came to giving others quiet and room to study. But still, if you take out the darkest wizard in a generation, you find that even the house of the snake does a bit of fangirling.

So she'd lured him to the room for a few quiet hours…both to work on her shaky state of mind and to do the actual homework…and because the room was willing to provide them with one other thing…

A soft bed with mounds of down comforters appeared.

Tom turned to her, expression hungry, as it always was when he suspected magic that he'd never encountered. "You can't do that in this room. You have to go outside to change it; this is totally against Gamp's sixth law…"

She didn't often catch him by surprise.

She grinned mischievously. "Yes. You have to leave to make changes. But when I asked the room for what I wanted, I included a bed that would appear when we finished our work, and not until then."

His eyes warmed with admiration. "You really, really get this room."

She looked down, thinking of Neville, and how he would never need to be that boy who had led a resistance within Hogwarts. "I knew a boy once who did, and over the years he told me stories."

Tom frowned but tried to look nonchalant as he put an arm around her. "Harry…Ron?"

"No. Another friend. A boy who lost his toad on his first trip on the express. He was my last friend alive…before. The rest passed before me." She knew her face betrayed her feelings, but tonight, she couldn't put those feeling aside. She raised her pumpkin juice in a silent toast to those heroes who had been, those who would never need to be if she had her way.

Tom wrapped his arms around her. "I…I could take them. The old memories. I could take them and you'd still be you, though I don't think you'd know why you were you anymore. If that's what it takes for you to find some peace…"

She put a soft hand on his face. She knew his reasons. It was something like 99% altruism because he truly did hate to see her suffer, and 1% selfishness because he hated to think she'd had a life before him. As much as she loved him, she knew he wasn't perfect…and that was…surprisingly good. She didn't want perfect.

"Tom, stop. I know you saw in my memories, when you heard them say that too many memories would drive a Champion mad…and we both saw what happened with that child…the one who was born to Lestrange. But I can deal with two lives. I can keep these memories and use them to make a better world. Not just in the big ways, but in little ways. Did you know that Lucius grew up, in the other timeline, as a spoiled rotten bastard that committed numerous crimes and the only reason he wasn't worse was that he didn't like to get his hands dirty. Abraxas died…I'm not sure exactly when, but I think Helga killed him. Now Helga is alive…"

He smirked. "And that's such a relief…"

She batted him playfully. "You can't just keep the people you like."

"You killed enough in the war."

She shrugged. "Yes. Deaths that will change things. Some would have lived. Some would have killed other people. Did you know that I never even heard of Edvard Ollivander in my timeline? I don't know what happened to Helena Malfoy either, but I don't think she was alive for much of Lucius' childhood. I do know what happened to Nicholas and Perenelle."

He knew from her tone it was nothing good. Always the diplomat, Tom didn't ask.

"We'll make sure that never happens."

She kissed him, deeply. "We will. This isn't the end of the war Tom. Remember, we aren't fighting one man, and the bad guys in the world don't often gather in easy-to-identify armies of good and evil."

Tom smirked. "Are you telling me, Miss Granger that this is not the end?"

"No love. I'm telling you that this is only the beginning. And Gellert Grindelwald was the easy part."

He chuckled as he began unbuttoning her uniform blouse. "Well my love. What armies of darkness shall we conquer next?"

She grinned. "I think Albus needs to be the next Minister of Magic."

 **ADADAD**

"Have you been smoking potions ingredients?"

Hermione smirked, actually smirked at him. She looked like a Malfoy when she did that, and Albus had to admit to himself that the expression left him more than a little uneasy. She was, for a moment, a little inhuman, like she might actually be Loki, God of Mischief, in disguise.

"In my visions, the ones we changed, you never took the place as Minister. You let men who were less able to lead do it because you feared the corrupting influence of power."

"I'm right to fear it."

"The man who knows to fear it is less likely to succumb. If you could see some of the idiots you babysat through the process while you "guided" them from Hogwarts."

Albus cringed. "Hogwarts needs me."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Hogwarts will be fine. Get Nicholas and Perenelle to take the headmaster's place after he retires for a few years and come back after you take care of some of the more egregious problems."

Albus pinched his crooked nose. "That would take a lifetime."

Edvard wrapped an arm around his waist. "Not with my knowledge of the Ministry, your power and fame, and Abraxas' contacts."

"Tom and I will be there to help once we have some experience under our belts."

Albus cocked a brow at his young tormentor. "And what do you intend to do to get that experience Miss Granger?"

She smiled at Tom, who was never far from her side, and the boy…no young man, wrapped an arm around her. "Hermione is accepting Nicholas and Perenelle's offer of an apprenticeship. I have accepted another with Garret Ollivander to learn wandlore." Albus' eyes widened and Tom blushed lightly. "The knowledge is generally only passed down through families so, it's far too good of an opportunity to give up. To be honest, I don't think he'd have offered it if he thought I was actually interested in using what I learned for wands…he has a keen eye for competition."

Edvard chuckled. "There's a reason why the only decent place to buy a wand in Diagon is Olivander's. My family tends to marry anyone who comes to our shores with new wandlore. It's been very effective."

"I want to use the knowledge to make other objects. I eventually want to study other elements of magic that are generally ignored, but the potential of using wand cores for other purposes…"

The two young lovebirds clasped hands and shared a long moment.

Albus cleared his throat. "And in the meantime, you expect me to slave away at the Ministry, cleaning up the mess of centuries of infighting."

"And the intolerance and agoraphobia."

Albus looked at her smug little face and stroked his beard. "I suppose someone needs to take them in hand."

Looking into Edvard's eyes, he didn't fear the power anymore. He knew there were people in his life that would keep his soul safe as he wielded it, and would hex him if he ever went too far.

 **AMAMAM**

Abraxas sat in his study, finishing the last of the financial papers for the quarter, when the flames leapt to life, surprising him.

His wife's 'friend', the lady he laughingly called the 'Fair Janet' (not that the chit was homely my any means, just entirely too quiet for his taste) stepped out of the fire.

"I apologize for the intrusion Abraxas. I need to see Helga."

Abraxas motioned for the door and poured himself a measure of firewhiskey. He'd been trying to cut back, but any interaction with Helga was sure to require a measure or two of it.

"Janet? Why did you come through this floo?"

She turned to Helga, her eyes shining with something Abraxas had never seen in her before. "I did it."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I told them I'm not marrying Harold Rosier. That I wouldn't marry him even if I liked wizards, and that I'm not going to marry one just to keep up appearances. I told them in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't do it."

"Oh Janet! I'm so proud of you!"

"I'm shocked you didn't end up in St. Mungo's, with your mother's temper." Helena walked in, Lucius following like a little blond duckling.

Janet chuckled. "I'm better with a shield charm than they ever gave me credit for."

"Good for you, dear."

Janet turned to Helga. "I don't have much, just the gold my grandmum left me in my own name. But I could afford a farmhouse somewhere. If you'd like…"

Helga met Abraxas' eyes. He chuckled darkly. "Oh don't mind me darling. I don't think a marriage should stand in the way of true love, but you might want to settle matters with Jean Claude Bassett before the two of you begin officially keeping house together. He's quite enamored of you. And you know Lucius will only be a floo away. Unless the two of you would rather have the dower house. Mater is never going to use it."

Helena looked at her only son morosely. "Dear, you may want to remarry eventually."

"Even if I did, a wife who would ask you to give up your place as mistress of the manor would not suit me." He kissed his mother's cheek and plucked his son out of her arms, making eye contact with Helga.

"Let me know what you decide."

He tiptoed downstairs with Lucius in his arms, grinning. While the women were busy, he'd break out the little training broom he'd bought Lucius in secret. He knew if the female contingent in the house saw it before he gave it to the boy, they'd forbid him to give it to their 'little angel'.

It was rough being outnumbered in the household all the time.

"What do you say? Should we invite your godfather and godmother over this weekend?" Lucius clapped as Abraxas settled him on the broom. "Merlin knows what I'll have to bribe Dippet with this time, but it will be worth it to preserve my sanity."

The tiny blond boy giggled madly and did his first barrel roll, albeit, probably not on purpose, though he did manage to stay on. He squealed with delight and did it again.

Abraxas watched his son zip around the room on the little broom and smiled until his face hurt.

This was what he'd fought a war for. His son. His family. His friends.

Looking at his son, he knew he would never stop trying to make the world a better place.

Because there was nothing that was too good for a Malfoy. And the best things in life couldn't be bought.

Thus, he withstood the inevitable recriminations when his laughter and Lucius' giggling attracted the rest of the household…and he did it with a smile firmly on his face.


End file.
